


You Were The Song Stuck In My Head

by betweentheheavesofstorm



Category: High School Musical (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Basketball!Steve, F/M, Fluff and Angst, High School Musical AU, I destroy canon, M/M, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Tony is Gabriella, in which Steve is Troy, teenagers are annoying and meddle when they shouldn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:58:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betweentheheavesofstorm/pseuds/betweentheheavesofstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cast of Avengers in the plot of High School Musical, or 'Steve and Tony fight the status quo with musical theatre.'</p><p> </p><p>(Happy 17th Jarin)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Steve and Tony have Troy and Gabriella's parents, for plot reasons and I disregard canon liberally in order to fulfil certain ships.

 

The hotel was predictably crowded for late December. Having taken one look at the heaving lobby and packed balconies, Tony decided it would be for the best if he found his room and spent as much time inside it as possible. It was hardly an unusual holiday plan - indeed he only consented to going to places with Internet signal.

He abandoned his parents while they were taking a walk to inspect the pool, returning to his room on the west side of the hotel. He was only halfway through unpacking – clothes, books and gadgets were strewn with careless abandon all over the shelves and floor. Digging his laptop out of his suitcase, he plugged it in and powered it up. By closing the curtains and turning one of the comforters into a nest, he was able to more or less create the perfect working environment. The hotel Wi-Fi wasn’t fantastic, though if he crouched in the furthest corner of his bed he could get two bars.

In that position he remained for the rest of the week. Once he tried venturing out to the hotel’s communal lounge, where the signal was stronger. That led to a whole host of new complications. His mother, initially so relieved that he was spending some time outside of his room was dismayed to find him on a computer, resolutely ignoring everyone else. A couple of teenagers, no doubt as bored as he’d be if he hadn’t brought everything, had tried to make conversation. They’d disappeared soon enough, when it became evident that Tony wasn’t interested in anything that wasn’t on a screen.

One way or another, the holiday dragged by. All the research he’d set himself was done, including some extras that weren’t necessary but helped to pass the time. Any more detailed work was too difficult to work on away from home, and so it was with relief that he rose on the final day of their trip. Ski resorts were all very well, but when you had no interest in either skiing or the resort they grew tedious rather quickly.

‘Tony? Are you still lurking?’ his mother rapped her knuckles on his door, and pushed it open without further preamble.

‘It’s work,’ Tony objected, shielding his eyes as she opened the curtains.

‘What it _is_ is New Year’s Eve,’ she told him sternly. ‘You’ve spent the whole holiday hidden away up here, and it’s time you had some human interaction.’

He didn’t move. ‘Don’t you want me to get good grades?’

Usually pointing out how great it was to be conscientious of one's studies was a trick that worked on her, especially as she was too busy most of the time to realize quite how ahead he was in all of his subjects. He hadn’t had homework since last fall, but then again this research wasn’t going to do itself.

Tonight, his mother could not be persuaded. 'There's a kids' party downstairs, she said, and upon seeing Tony's expression, hastily amended the statement. 'Young adults, I mean. It’ll be good for you, and if you absolutely hate it you can go.’

It was a losing battle, Tony realized, extracting himself from the comfort of his bed and trudging over to the wardrobe for some cleaner clothes. He didn't plan on talking to anyone, but he figured his mother wouldn’t be impressed with his current outfit. The direwolf shirt, though very comfortable, was as creased as it was possible for cotton to be, as well as sporting a stain on the left shoulder.

'I deserve points for this,' he muttered, unearthing some fresh jeans and a navy blue button-down. They were hardly party clothes, but they would have to do.

 

After a series of mishaps that had resulted in severe humiliation, Steve Rogers decided that parties were just not his thing. Throughout his childhood he had muddled his way through spillages, fights and allergic reactions. (Though if he were going to be honest, it was mostly the latter). Parents of even his closest friends dithered over whether to invite him, as he was a dream guest but a nightmare to cook for. This was due not to picky eating or dietary choices, merely the fact that Steve was allergic to _everything_. Even he couldn’t recall the comprehensive list, but after reeling off dairy, gluten and seafood he’d usually shrug and say, ‘most things.’

The few parties that had not involved literally breaking out in hives were made eventful by his and Bucky's misdemeanors. Bucky was constantly toeing the line between trying to stop Steve from doing something stupid, and coming up with stupid ideas himself. Roofs had been climbed on, walls walked along and at least one birthday cake squashed in a tragic accident.

So far nothing disastrous had happened at the party he was currently at, but he figured it was only a matter of time until something decided to screw him over. It was some New Years' do for young people put on by the resort, and from the look of it most of the other teenagers was having a great time. Probably because they'd had the sense to bring friends. Steve watched couples dance and groups of friends laugh, and wished for the thousandth time that he’d managed to smuggle the basketball team along in his suitcase. Natasha had offered to hide in his hand luggage, and knowing her she’d be willing to try it.

Without her or Bucky to make things interesting, he found a spot near one of the food tables and settled himself there, alternating between loading his plate with nibbles and checking his phone.

The hotel management had bypassed a DJ and gone for the cheaper choice of a karaoke machine, on a little stage above the dance floor. The singers weren’t bad either. Steve watched them for half a song, flicking their hair and belting out a Disney number. This way the only music playing were songs people actually liked, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. This was the third Disney song so far, and Steve was pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last.

The track ended, and the singers bowed themselves off the stage. Spotlights swept the crowd to randomly select its next victims. Steve shrank into himself, hoping his usual invisibility would work in his favour. It seemed to do the opposite. After a wide circle of the crowd the left spotlight swept over to shine directly on him.  

He was planning to bail - now was as good a time as any to make a swift exit - when he saw the other candidate, a slim black-haired boy who seemed to simultaneously be loving the attention and terrified of singing in public. Steve's resolve crumbled and he slowly made his way to the raised platform in the middle of the room, while those who’d been standing near him clapped to mask their relief that they hadn’t been selected.

'Good luck,' the guy in charge handed Steve and the other boy microphones. 'It's okay if you're a bit off-key, it's the effort that counts.'

Steve nodded, a queasy knot forming in his stomach. He sang in the shower like ordinary people, and 'Happy Birthday' at aforementioned disastrous parties, but not in front of a huge crowd of people he didn't know. With his luck, this was going to end in tears.

The first bars of the song came on over the sound system, and Steve's heart dropped even further. Slow piano - that meant a romantic duet for sure. There was only one person Steve had sung romantic duets with (as a joke, of course, that peculiar kind that's just a shade too honest) and he’d never been further away.

Words appeared on the screen, and to Steve's surprise it was the other guy who sang first. Voice low, but strong, growing louder as he allowed his confidence to leak through. Steve's part came naturally. It wasn't a song he knew, but it was easy to follow.

The other boy's eyes were fixed on him, silently assessing his commitment, Steve thought. He stared back, aware that his scrawny frame was far from intimidating. It didn't matter though, because this was not a fight, they were on the same side, voices rising together and complimenting each other like veins in an oak tree.

He’d never sung a love song - and this hardly counted, it was only about the start of something - with a total stranger before, and yet there was an energy between them, vibrant and exciting and _there_ , and it made the hairs on his neck stand on end.

Now it was established that they could both sing, the crowd lost interest in the act itself and started to enjoy the music. At first there had been a fair few snickers at two guys being asked to duet, but now everyone was silent, swaying along to the song. Steve found himself grinning like an idiot, unable to resist the slightly flirtatious energy that seemed to radiate from his partner.

It all ended far too soon. Steve was just getting into the swing of it when the last notes died away to a smattering of polite applause. Seconds later he was being ushered offstage and absorbed into the crowd. He craned his neck, trying to see where the other boy had gone. He was determined to track him down and say something, even if it were just 'thanks for making me look good.'

Unfortunately, being a head shorter than everyone else had its disadvantages. He couldn’t see a thing beyond other people’s torsos, and that was useless. He tried standing on tiptoe, or jumping up and down on the spot. Neither rendered useful results. He was starting to think he might have to gatecrash the next song to get a better view from the stage, when out of the corner of his eye he saw the French doors at the far side of the room open a crack, and somebody slip out onto the porch.

It was a long shot, but he didn’t have anything else to go on, and if all else failed it would be nice and cool outside. Pushing through the crowd was harder work than he’d anticipated. He was buffeted one way and then another, hedged in by the other partiers. It seemed like an age before he reached the doors, and was able to pull them open and dart through.

It was beautifully dark and quiet on the other side. He leant against the cold glass door, letting his eyes adjust and savoring the breeze. It was so peaceful it took him a moment to remember that there was someone else out there with him.

Somewhere to his left, a silhouette stirred and a confident voce said, ‘Couldn’t stay away, huh? I’ve been told I have that effect on ladies.’

Steve moved towards the source of the voice, and in doing so stepped into a stray patch of light cast through the French windows.

‘And the gentlemen too,’ the voice corrected himself. Its owner joined him in the light, and became distinguishable as the boy he’d sung with. Steve exhaled, suddenly glad that he hadn’t stumbled across somebody else by accident.

‘Well, I had to say hi,’ he said, leaning backwards against the railing. ‘I’m Steve.’

'Tony. You ever sung before?'

An image of late night drives with Bucky, both windows open and music blasting from the speakers, screaming along until they were hoarse, sprang to mind.

'No,' he said. 'You?'

'Nah. Unless, like, serenading my shower counts,' Tony grinned disarmingly. 'So, where are you from?'

They talked then, about their respective homes, Steve attempting to describe the goldfish bowl that was East High, Albuquerque. Tony's half was much more interesting. He moved around all the time, following his father's career. He'd lived in six different states. Annual skiing holidays were the limit to Steve’s travels, and so it was fascinating to listen to.

'That must be so cool,' he said, after Tony finished talking about the Smithsonian. 'I'd love to see those places.'

‘Oh, it’s great,’ Tony said, just a little too sarcastically. ‘Constantly changing schools so just as you get to know people you’re leaving again. Not to mention trying to explain to admissions that I haven’t been kicked out of all those places, I left through my own free will. Well, I got kicked out of a couple of them, but those don’t count.’

Steve tried and failed to imagine what that would be like. That was the problem of living in the same place all your life, change was such a foreign thing he wouldn’t recognise it if he saw it.

'So,' said Tony, cutting across the slightly awkward silence. 'What do you do in your time off?'

'Basketball,' Steve admitted, and was rewarded with an incredulous expression.

'I'm sorry, but you're the shortest basketball player I've ever seen.'

'Yeah, I get that a lot.'

'So why do they let you play?'

'I'm good.'

'No, really.'

'I'm _really_ good.'

Tony laughed, and Steve's mind spiraled into a complicated plan of how he might make him laugh again.

_______

 

Tony’s family was leaving promptly the following morning. After tracking his things down and packing them in a frenzied rush, Tony ran down to the lounge to try and locate Steve. He was nowhere to be found, and Tony’s pleas for delays fell on deaf ears.

'Yesterday you were gagging to leave, and now all you can talk about is staying,' his mother grumbled. 'Did you meet someone at the party?'

‘No,’ Tony said. Steve’s number was in his phone, but when he lived two states away there was little point in using it. ‘I was just - looking.’

‘Did you lose something?’

Even if he ran into Steve now, what would he say? ‘Hey you’re really cute and we’ll never see each other again, which totally sucks, bye’?

‘It’s okay, everything’s packed. What time is the flight?’

 

_______

 

Perhaps it was always this way after vacation, but East High felt smaller after winter break. The plastic Christmas trees and tinsel were gone, replaced by notices advertising extra-curriculars and cheer squad tryouts. The drinking fountain on the second floor was still broken, and the cleaners had managed to remove some choice graffiti from the walls of the gym.

Steve rode the bus the first day. He hadn’t seen Natasha since he got back, and had no idea whether her car was in working order yet. It wasn’t as dull as it could have been; he found a seat with Maria and Sam. They, like him, were among the few basketball players that didn’t have their own transport.

'Greetings, O Captain,' said Sam, with a slight eye-roll, as Steve squeezed into the seat beside him. 'Did you eat a fully grown man, or just become one?'

People were going to notice. Steve sighed inwardly. It was pretty had _not_ to notice when your classmate turned from the smallest skinniest boy alive to a hulking mass of muscle in a could of weeks. It wasn’t even intentional.

'If you have workout tips, I demand that you share them,' said Maria.

'Training doesn't make you taller,' Steve tried. 'That was a growth spurt.'

'And the muscles?'

'A side effect. I'm on some new medication for being susceptible to everything, and yeah, it did stuff. My dad didn't help, insisting on training every day.'

'It's working,' Maria raised her eyebrows. 'You swear there were no steroids?'

Steve laughed. 'I swear.'

His other friends had similar reactions. 'Oh my god,' said Natasha, as she took her usual seat behind him at homeroom. 'I know you said 'freaky big' but I didn't think you meant quite like this. We are gonna _cream_ those idiots at state nationals.'

Steve barely heard her. The other students were filing into place, and he could have sworn that he'd seen someone who looked familiar. More familiar than usual, that is. He craned his neck, taking advantage of his newfound height, and felt his heart thud against his ribcage as he caught sight of a familiar profile, already seated at the other end of the room.

'Steve? You okay?' Natasha frowned.

'Fine,' he managed, pulling a mobile from his pocket and composing a text under his desk. “ _hey. welcome to east high.”_ Watching stealthily, he saw Tony react to his phone buzzing, and then him looking down to read the texts. A few seconds later, a reply popped into his inbox. “ _hey. you are awful at hiding your phone. do they get confiscated here?”_

 _“no,”_ Steve sent, and right on cue their homeroom teacher arrived. Mr Fury was the most intense theatre person Steve had ever known - a far cry from the laid-back hippies that led the drama department in other schools he knew of. Theatre was necessary for life according to Fury, as was strict adherence to the rules. His good eye zeroed in on their phones immediately, and he held up a plastic crate.

'Phones in here.'

Steve had no option to obey. Fury practically had the crate under his nose. Across the room, Tony was smirking; only to have his own phone confiscated minutes later.

‘Detentions, Rogers, and...?’

‘Stark.’

‘Congratulations, Mr Stark, for getting a detention on your first day.’

‘Sir,’ Natasha was fighting laughter. ‘Steve can’t have detention today, he’s got basketball practice.’

‘You will find I am unsympathetic to pleas made on the behalf of sport.’

‘With all due respect, sir, it’s the state nationals in a few weeks. Steve has to train.’

‘Perhaps then I shall advise some team bonding. You can share his detention.’ Fury shifted his gaze around the class. ‘Would the rest of the team like to voice any objection?’ Nobody spoke, and he relaxed.

Without the ability to text, Steve had to content himself with sideways glances at Tony every ten seconds. Every so often their eyes met and the intensity of his gaze made Steve want to look away.

Tony was on his feet the moment the bell went, grabbing his bag and approaching Steve’s desk, again somehow combining bravado and uncertainty in a way that was undeniably attractive. 'No rules about phones, huh?' he asked, his eyes alight with amusement.

'Yeah, they rarely enforce them,' Steve answered. Natasha coughed behind him. ‘My apologies. Nat, this is Tony, I met him on winter break. Tony, this is my friend Natasha. She's on the basketball team with me.'

Tony stiffened, and hurriedly shifted his tense expression so that it conveyed mild surprise. 'Mixed sport?'

'You got a problem?' Natasha inquired. The size of her biceps alone was usually enough to end this conversation before it started.

'No, no problem.’ She could tear him into pieces, and he knew it. ‘It's just cool. I didn't expect East High to be so liberal.'

'You're in for a lot of surprises, then.' Natasha shrugged, and looked at Steve expectantly. 'See you at lunch?'

'What? Oh, yeah.'

She fell in step with Maria, and they disappeared into the crowded hallway.

'So what's your first class?' Steve asked Tony, who looked a lot happier now that his limbs weren’t in imminent danger.  

'Chemistry. Yours?'

'English, unfortunately. You know where the science block is?'

‘Yeah, they gave me a map.’

‘Seriously? We didn’t get maps as freshmen.’

‘I think they took one look at my transcripts and took pity on me.’ Tony started walking, and Steve followed him. ‘So how did you turn into a wrestler inside a week? Or is that a muscle suit?'

Steve launched into the same explanation he'd been giving everyone. Tony was a terrible listener; he kept interrupting to ask detailed scientific questions.

'You know more about this stuff than I do,' Steve said, finally surrendering.

'I wouldn't say that,' Tony objected, though his grin belied his satisfaction. 'Aren't the English classrooms that way?'

Steve paused. 'Yes.'

'You're gonna be late.'

'It's the first day, they'll let me off.'

The corners of Tony's mouth twitched. 'You don't seem like a rule breaker to me.' His gaze slid past Steve to the notice board behind him, upon which was pinned the audition sheets for the winter musical. 'You going to sign up for that?'

'Are you kidding? I couldn't do that to the team. Plus I don't have the time.'

'So, make the time. I've heard you sing, you're good.'

'You are too. I don't see you signing up.'

'That would be part of my undercover plan. No teams, clubs or extra-curriculars of any kind.'

'How do you plan on meeting people?'

'I already know you, don't I? And seriously, you should audition.'

A booming laugh came from directly behind them. ' _Steve?_ Audition for a musical? You must be joking.'

'Hello, Thor,' Steve didn't bother looking round. He was quite familiar with East High's star performer. Thor had spent the past two years unabashedly hitting on Bucky and sniggering about Steve's delicate frame when he knew both boys could hear him.

'You must have had a good winter break, you look amazing,' Thor continued, fishing a pen from his pocket and scrawling his name in big letters across the signup sheet.

Turning back to look at them, he said, 'Maybe you _should_ audition, Steve. I've worked with Loki for years, but frankly he's been a bit slow of late. I'm sure we could find a way to incorporate your basketball skills.' And with a confident smile, he departed. 

'Think a lot of himself, does he?' Tony inquired wryly. He glanced up and down the rapidly emptying corridor. The bell was going to ring any second. 'We could put our names down.'

'Audition together, you mean?'

'Why not?'

'I don't sing. New Year's was a one-off.'

'It was fun, though. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it.'

'It's not a question of what I enjoy. And I thought you were going to avoid all extra-curriculars.'

'That doesn't mean I can't be persuaded otherwise. Come on Steve, live a little.'

Bucky would have said the same thing. Steve set his jaw, and wrote his own name below Thor's elaborate signature. Looking satisfied, Tony followed suit.

'You should probably get to class. Don't want to be late on your first day in the school,' Steve pointed out. 'Chemistry classrooms are just down there.'

'I don't know, it might be a good idea to give an accurate first impression.' Tony grinned. 'I don’t want them to think I’m a punctual person. See ya.'

'See ya.' Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Steve jogged in the direction of his English class. 

 

On the way to school that morning, Tony had given himself two rules. One; do not show off, two; do not show off in any scientific subject. For once, he would keep his mouth shut, and enjoy not being a school’s pet genius. Attention would get boring after a while, and somehow he always ended up with a fan club of freshmen wanting him to tutor them. He’d had a taste of celebrity status in his last few schools, and it was never as great as it sounded. People always wanted to talk to him, oblivious of whether the desire was reciprocated. Wearing headphones or carrying a book everywhere to appear busy did little to discourage them, and sooner or later his teachers started wanting to know what he got up to at home, dropping hints that he could submit his pet projects for extra credit.

He managed to forget all of that to break both his rules in in first period chemistry. In his defense, it wasn’t _his_ fault the teacher misread the textbook equation. He was performing a public service really, pointing it out. The bad news was that it brought him to the attention to the others seated at his table, who had hitherto taken little notice of the newcomer.

‘You’re Tony, right?’ the boy next to him asked. ‘The new student.’

‘That would be me.’

‘I’m Bruce. Nice to meet you,’ he held out his hand, and Tony, slightly perturbed, shook it.

Making friends was good. He had to do it while he was still new, otherwise in a few weeks time he’d be the lame loner with no excuse. While there technically wasn’t anything wrong with being alone, it was best that one was that way by choice and not because you didn’t have anyone to sit with.

‘If you don’t mind my asking,’ Bruce continued, ‘would you be interested in joining East High’s Scholastic decathlon team? We’re looking for new members, as if we don’t get numbers up we can’t enter the competition.’

Oh, shit.

‘You just met me,’ Tony said. ‘I could be terrible.’

‘You corrected Mrs Bell five minutes after meeting her,’ said Bruce. ‘I’m willing to take a chance.’

‘Sorry, don’t have the time.’ He fidgeted, wishing he could leave. Across the room, the teacher was helping another student. She might not notice immediately if he crept out, but with Bruce sitting right there it was hardly a viable plan. ‘Gotta get caught up with everything, you know.’

‘Caught up? Isn’t this your first day?’

‘I missed a week of class at my old school before winter break.’ And the work they were doing now he’d done months ago, but he wouldn’t help his case by saying that.

‘Fair enough.’ Resigned to rejection, Bruce moved on. ‘What do you think of East High so far?’

Tony exhaled. Thirty more minutes of class, and then he could find a quiet spot to mentally regroup. ‘It’s nice, I guess. Nobody’s has hit me and nothing’s on fire, so I’ll take those as good signs.’

‘With a bar that low you must be easy to impress.’

His hobbies came to mind, all the hours he’d spent strenuously trying to get something to be perfect. He hummed noncommittally, and Bruce moved on.

 

Steve and Natasha were rescued from detention by Steve’s irate father. Though they changed in record time, when at last the practice started they were already running late.

Theoretically, Steve should have been the perfect athlete. For once in his life he had the physical power to make his talent shine. Fast and strong enough to outrun the majority of his teammates (with just a couple of notable exceptions) he would have been on top of his game if he had been paying more attention.

‘What is with you?’ Maria demanded, when Steve missed an easy pass. ‘You’re normally better than this.’

‘Out of practice, I guess,’ he shrugged.

‘Yeah, ‘cause it wasn’t like you were training everyday or anything,’ Sam shook his head.

His father had noticed, too. ‘Rogers! Come on you’re nearly as bad as you were at Thanksgiving. Get your head in the game.’

Steve tried. He really was trying. Only his thoughts kept slipping, from basketball to Tony, and the miraculous odds of him showing up here. From there it was a downward spiral towards the audition, and the stupidity of trying out for something that was clearly Thor’s territory.

‘Is something wrong?’ Natasha asked, after practice. ‘Did you hear from Bucky?’

Steve missed a step. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Why, has he contacted you?’

She shook her head. ‘Radio silence. I’m sure he’s okay. Probably just trying to get used to Brooklyn.’

‘Probably,’ he agreed. ‘What do you think of Pietro?’

Though Wanda had been on the team since sophomore year, her twin brother had only just joined. He was shaping up quite well, given his lack of experience.

‘I’ve got no idea what he’s doing here,’ said Natasha, stopping by her locker to pick up homework. ‘That guy should be on the track team. I’m not complaining, though.’

‘If he’s anything like his sister, he’ll be fine. Though he’ll never be as good as – ’ Steve caught himself.

‘New guy looks cute,’ Natasha said, tactfully changing the subject. ‘Your homeroom buddy.’

‘Tony? He’s nice. Friendly. I mean, we’re friends.’

‘You’re blushing,’ Natasha observed with slight satisfaction, closing her locker. ‘I think you might have a little crush.’

‘Who has a crush?’ Sam joined them. ‘If either of you are sweet on Loki, I think Steve’s going to have more luck.’

‘True,’ she acknowledged. ‘But I could seduce Thor and run away with all his money.’

‘I’d hate to think what that seduction would involve,’ Sam mused. ‘Either the illusion of vast wealth yourself or a lot of musical theatre.’

‘Oh please no,’ she groaned dramatically. ‘I don’t dance.’

‘Not yet you don’t,’ Sam seemed to be enjoying himself. ‘Who knows what effect Thor’s charms might have.’

‘On a less traumatic subject, who’s up for a movie night on Friday?’ Maria asked. ‘My mom’s going to visit my grandparents so she’ll be out of town.’

‘You say that like it’s gonna result in anything other than us sitting around watching action movies with a sackload of Doritos,’ said Natasha. ‘Not,’ she added quickly, ‘that it’s a bad plan.’

_______

 

Steve barely saw Tony over the next week. He was so busy with team practices, and anytime he wasn’t playing basketball he was talking about it with Natasha and Sam, or else teaching Pietro the ropes. That left very little time for singing.

It wasn’t like Tony was languishing without him. He’d fallen in with Bruce Banner and the nerd squad. Now and again Steve would see them, arguing about the heavily flawed science of Jurassic Park over lunch. More than once he wanted to stop and say hi, but Natasha would invariably remind him that if there was anywhere in East High where he was truly unwelcome, it was in predominantly academic circles.

‘They don’t like us because we’re physically superior and we don’t like them because they’re smarter than us,’ she said. ‘Well, smarter than you.’

The real problem was that it was far too easy to slip into his old routine of homework, basketball and little else. Singing had been fun, and Tony was still unfairly attractive, but Steve was back in his regular life now and it was a rut that was difficult to escape from.

_______

 

Tony knew the exact moment when Bruce found out about his past achievements, because he received a breathless phone call while walking from Trig to Earth Science. Bruce never got hyper about anything, but this was the most impressed Tony had ever heard him sound.

‘I’m so glad you changed your mind about the Scholastic decathlon,’ he was saying. ‘It’s far below your league, of course, but it would be a really good learning opportunity for the rest of us.’

‘I never said anything about doing the decathlon,’ Tony frowned, even though he knew Bruce couldn’t see him.

‘Then why did you drop those articles into my locker? Tony Stark, wonder teen? It _was_ you, wasn’t it?’

‘No. If I wanted to tell you about my test scores, I would have done it in person. Praise and adoration are more fun that way.’

‘Well, details aside – will you join the team? It wouldn’t be a huge commitment, as you know all the stuff anyway.’

Tony exhaled. His rules had been well intentioned, but he should have known he didn’t have a chance of sticking to them.

‘Fine. What the hell.’ It wasn’t like he ever passed up chances to excel at something. And Bruce was right; he did know all the content.

‘Great. You can meet the team after class. There was a revision session scheduled anyway.’

‘Sorry, I can’t do today, I have a thing.’

‘A thing?’ now Bruce sounded amused. ‘What kind of thing?’

They were teammates now. And, if a little tentatively, friends. ‘A Steve Rogers thing.’

‘A _what?_ Are you and him – ’

‘No. Not at the moment, though I feel insulted by your surprise. Am I that out of his league?’

‘Not after winter break you aren’t. That dude could probably get anyone he wanted now. He wasn’t popular before, so now he’s _Steve Rogers: Hunky_ and _Sensitive.’_

‘Whatever, man.’

‘I’m not judging.’

‘Just forget I ever mentioned it.’ He was standing outside his class; everyone else was already there. ‘I’ll meet your team tomorrow, okay?’

‘Okay. Bye.’

Steve probably wouldn’t even show up for the audition Tony thought, picking an empty desk by the window and sitting down. He must have basketball training or something. It wasn’t like he’d wanted to sign up in the first place; he’d only done it under pressure.

In a departure from the tradition of the previous week, Earth Science didn’t allow any time for thinking. Tony was all set up to spend the period worrying and making paper aeroplanes out of his homework, only to be handed an answer sheet and informed they were having a pop quiz. He made wild guesses at the first few questions, before giving up entirely. No amount of coaxing could persuade him to care, and while he’d probably kick himself later if he failed, what was one small test in the grand scheme of things?

He leapt up the second the class ended, filling his bag at record speed and making a beeline for the door. Whether Steve decided to show or not, he wasn’t going to be late.

Nobody would have noticed if he had been. When he entered the theatre Thor was onstage performing with his brother. Bad first impressions aside, Tony had to admit that they were good. They had the rehearsed slickness of professionals and the choreographer was somebody who clearly knew what they were doing. The result was peppy and fast-paced, if a little on the romantic side for siblings to sing.

Fury was watching them with satisfaction, sat in the front row of stalls with his little entourage. When their song was over, he muttered something about the true meaning of theatre, sighed and asked if anyone else were here to audition. Emboldened by the fact that Loki and Thor had whisked themselves offstage the moment they were done, Tony stepped forward.

‘I’d like to.’

Fury raised an eyebrow. ‘Do you have a partner?’

He glanced at the conspicuously empty doorways. ‘No, but – ’

‘No buts. Single auditions are over.’ Fury rose. Tony could do nothing but watch as he marched away, followed by clipboard-bearing freshmen. So much for that plan.

‘I’ll sing with him.’

Steve appeared in the opposite doorway, out of breath like he’d run the whole way there. The little spark of hope inside Tony rekindled.

‘Basketball Rogers. I am surprised to see you here.’ Fury sounded just a trifle gleeful at having enticed someone over from the sports department.

‘I’ll sing with him,’ Steve repeated.

‘You’re too late. I called for the pairs auditions, and there was no response. Perhaps the spring musical.’ Without waiting for a response, Fury swept from the room.

Steve deflated slightly, and began to walk down the aisle. Tony went to meet him halfway.

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘You should, it was my fault.’ Steve was still in his sports gear. Never had lurid orange been so attractive. ‘I had to sneak away from training.’

‘Won’t they want to know where you’ve been?’

Steve shrugged. ‘I’ll tell them it was a date.’

A loud thud resonated through the auditorium. Up on the stage, the skinny boy behind the piano had slipped over. The stack of sheet music in his hands, which had been very briefly airborne, was fluttering gracefully to the ground around him.

Steve reacted immediately, jogging up to the stage to help. He couldn’t just be a stereotypical jock, Tony thought irritably as he followed, he had to be kind and compassionate as well.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ the pianist was saying, as Steve bent down to start picking up the papers.

‘It’s not a problem. I’m Steve, by the way.’

‘Clint. Thanks, man.’

There was no way Tony could stand and watch without looking lazy, so he joined the two on the stage.

‘You write this?’ Steve was reading one of the sheets he’d picked up.

‘What? Oh, yeah.’ Clint took it from him. ‘Not that it matters, Thor changes everything to sound how he wants it to.’

‘Is that allowed?’ Steve frowned.

‘It’s high school, not Broadway. He can do what he wants.’

‘But you’re the writer. That’s like the playmaker in basketball.’ Seeing that his audience was more than a little confused, he elaborated, going off onto a spiel containing more sporting terminology than Tony ever wanted to hear in his life again.

‘What he’s trying to say,’ he said, when he could get a word in edgewise. ‘Is that actors can’t change what Shakespeare wrote, so Thor shouldn’t be able to walk all over you.’

‘It’s no big deal.’ His hands now full, Clint got to his feet. ‘Do you guys wanna hear what the duet’s supposed to sound like?’

‘Sure.’ What was the harm? It wasn’t like Tony had anywhere better to be.

Digging out the relevant papers, Clint went to sit at the piano, the others trailing behind him.

‘You’re gonna have to sing,’ Clint added, nodding towards the printed lyrics. Tony’s stomach gave a slight lurch, but he nodded and leant over Clint’s shoulder to read off the page.

It was as it had been before. Singing seemed to wipe away all time and space until there was nothing but Steve and him, supported by the piano’s soft tones. The song was sweet and cheerful and seemed to say that whatever came to pass, they were safe in this moment that nobody could shatter. Tony’s eyes were locked on Steve’s, as he inwardly marveled at how anyone’s irises could be _that_ blue. If he hadn’t known Steve better he would have suspected colour contacts.

The last notes died away, bringing them back to earth with a jolt.

‘Huh,’ said Clint. ‘You’re _good._ ’

‘Rogers, Stark.’ None of them had noticed Mr Fury, lurking in the doorway. His expression was grim in a way that Tony knew immediately wasn’t good. There was probably some rule about singing out of bounds or something. He wouldn’t be surprised.

‘I’m not often this generous, but you two have the potential to be exceptional. You got yourselves a callback.’ A slight nod to Clint, and he withdrew.

The pianist waited until he was sure Fury couldn’t hear, and then said, ‘I have _never_ seen him change his mind like that before. That’s some Siren shit. Also look, you’re gonna need another song for the callback. Let me know when you want to practice, and I can help you out.’

‘That would be great, thanks.’ Steve looked a little dazed. He and Tony exited the theater, both struggling to process what had happened. For a good long moment they stood in the corridor looking at a full-length Wildcat poster, allowing the wheels to start turning again in their heads.

‘I knew we were good,’ Tony said, after a moment. ‘I didn’t know we were _that_ good.’

‘Me neither. Like sure, fun to give it a shot, but now we could actually get it. We could be in the show.’

‘I think my parents will die of shock.’

‘Mine too.’

Tony tilted his head sideways to look at him. ‘Did I say? The science kids want me for their decathlon team.’

‘I thought you were all about keeping a low profile.’

‘Things happen.’

‘The decathlon - that’s a competition, right?’

‘Yeah. Nerd stuff.’

‘Are you gonna to do it?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think I have a choice.’ Tony sighed. ‘It’s that or expect nobody in my classes to speak to me ever again.’

‘Hey, if they’re pressuring you into anything – ’

‘No need to get righteous on my behalf. I should probably do it, it’s worth a lot of extra credit.’ He grinned. ‘And I like showing off.’

‘Your friends, they all on the team?’

‘I think so. Why?’

‘Just – your team can be everything. When it matters, they _need_ to be everything. But sometimes you need something outside of it all, to keep you sane.’

‘Is that why you like me? Because I’m different?’

‘Shit, my secret’s out.’ Steve consulted his watch. ‘If I get back now, they might not actually flay me, but if I stay any longer I can’t make promises.’

‘Wouldn’t want that. I have to get the bus anyway.’ Tony began backing away, because he knew if he hesitated for another minute he would have wanted a celebratory hug, and that would probably come off as clingy on a creepy scale. ‘I’ll call you later, we can discuss rehearsals?’

_______

 

Steve thought he knew what a busy schedule looked like. Three years on the basketball team had given him experience of doing last minute homework at 2 am. Now with rehearsals during lunchtimes and free periods, he was virtually rushed off his feet.

He still hadn’t told anyone that he had a callback. Natasha was aware that he spent his lunchtimes elsewhere, and she was smart enough to have put two and two together to realize he was with Tony.

She wasn’t wrong. Steve found himself going out of his way to see the other boy. He caught the bus to school instead of riding in Nat’s car, so he could have twenty minutes of conversation about robotics or computer programming or whatever it was Tony felt like talking about that day.

That was not to say, he wasn’t enjoying the singing. Under Clint’s direction they were improving rapidly, until they sounded more like proper performers than a couple of kids with a karaoke machine. It was the most fun Steve had had in a long time. He’d never stopped loving basketball, but with state nationals drawing ever closer it was becoming more stressful. It didn’t help matters that his father was their coach. He expected Steve to come straight home from training and practice with the hoop in the front yard. The rest of the team was doing as least as much, he said. When Steve protested that he had homework, his father argued that was what lunchtimes were for.

The whole process was exhausting, and yet the prospect of giving up anything was intolerable.

_______

 

Natasha saw the callback sheets being pinned up and went to look out of pure curiosity. It was a long time since anyone had challenged Thor’s position as king of the theatre, meaning that the auditions would be interesting to say the least.

As expected, the Odinson brothers’ names were listed at the top as the first couple, and below that...

She swore. No wonder they never saw Steve nowadays. She should have realized that there was more to his obsession with the nerd than met the eye. This was shit. A lovesick captain was one thing, but a lovesick captain bent on musical theatre was something else entirely, and it spelt doom for the Wildcats’ chances at state nationals.

It would be best to stop this as soon as possible, she decided. Loki and Thor would decimate Steve at the audition, so if anything she would be sparing him further pain and humiliation. It was her duty as her friend to intervene; they would both thank her later.

Thanks to a few exploits in freshman year, she knew where to find the rehearsal rooms. Lunchtime had only just begun, so she hurried over to the south wing of the school without stopping to collect backup. Sam and Maria would be helpful in this situation, but Natasha wasn’t wasting any time.

She knew she was in the right place when she heard the sound of a piano, being played with skill. Glancing cautiously up and down the corridor, she strode forwards and pulled the door open.

Steve and his boyfriend were nowhere to be seen. A sandy haired boy was seated at the piano. He looked up as she entered, and his face creased into an expression of confusion that made him look like a baffled puppy.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

‘Is Steve Rogers here?’ She leant casually against the door frame. Nerds were usually easy to intimidate.

‘Not yet. He should be along soon.’

‘You the one who convinced him to do this?’

‘No.’ He met her gaze steadily. ‘As far as I’m aware he’s here through his own free will.’

So the puppy had teeth.

‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s good.’

‘Is that the song?’ she moved across to stand behind the piano, reading the sheet music over the boy’s shoulder.

‘It’s the one they’re considering for the callback. I take it you’re not a singer?’ He scooted his seat back so that he could face her.

‘No. Basketball is more my thing.’

‘Huh. You’re smart for a jock.’

‘You’re outspoken for a nerd.’

‘Maybe I have a secret sports life.’

‘Do you?’ she asked, amusement lifting the corners of her mouth.

‘Well, I go to the gym.’

‘And I get straight As. Do you see me bragging?’ She moved closer, sitting herself down on the piano stool. Surprised, the boy shuffled to make room, though, she noted, he didn’t get up.

‘Looks pretty simple.’ She played the first few bars, humming the tune.

‘You’re not bad,’ he said, his approval tempered with surprise.

‘Yeah, well. I’m a talented person. And my parents were obsessed with having an accomplished child. I can play four instruments, speak six languages and did ballet to grade seven.’

‘Are your parents related to Fitzwilliam Darcy?’

‘They’re Russian, so I doubt it. They’d like him, though.’ She was enjoying this conversation more than she thought she would. Too bad she had other priorities. ‘What time does Steve usually show?’

‘He’s normally here by now. Might have taken the day off, he’s behind with a lot of his homework.’

‘Do me a favor,’ Natasha got up, and started walking to the door. ‘Don’t tell him I came by.’

‘If you insist. I’m Clint.’

‘Natasha. Guess I’ll see you around.’

 

Turning down the corridor to the rehearsal room, Steve saw a flash of red hair and hastily retreated. He too had seen the callback announcement and guessed that it wasn’t going to go down well with the team. If Nat was angry enough to gatecrash a rehearsal, he figured it was best to avoid her for as long as possible.

He started back in the opposite direction, and ran straight into Tony.

‘No rehearsal today,’ Steve said hastily, grabbing his bicep and leading him back in the opposite direction.

‘What? How come?’

‘Natasha’s there. Don’t know about you but I’m not too partial to lectures. She’ll be all right once we give her some space to cool down. Hey, we can go up here.’ On an impulse, he started up a narrow flight of stairs, hidden behind a door at the end of the passageway.

‘Be honest,’ said Tony, as climbed upward. 'Are we about to hide out in Fury’s office?’

Steve just laughed. ‘Wait and see.’

They ascended flight after flight, until Tony was starting to complain that his legs felt like rubber. Steve hadn’t climbed them since acquiring muscles, and found himself marveling at how easy it was. He remembered the climb as being excruciating.

‘Almost there,’ he said, as the top stairwell came into sight. It was identifiable as being at the top by the fact that it was better illuminated than all the previous ones. Natural light poured in through a skylight, and the last flight of stairs led up to a metal trapdoor.

‘Is that the roof?’ Tony craned his neck to see.

‘It leads onto it, yeah.’ Steve bounded up the steps, and pushed it open. Freezing air rushed in through the gap, cold and fresh. He held the door open for Tony too, and for half a minute they stood next to it, surveying the scene.

Despite the chilly January weather, the rooftop garden was a blaze of green. Vines crept along poles and curled up trellises, and every surface was covered in potted plants of every size and shape. Even the raised beds were planted full of evergreen bushes, laid out neatly in rows. Someone must have come up to water them very recently, because the fresh scent of wet earth still lingered in the air.

A small bench was situated at the far end. Steve started forward automatically and then hesitated. His gut was saying that this was all wrong. He’d made the decision to bring Tony here on the spur of the moment, without properly thinking it through. Perhaps it hadn’t been the best idea.

‘Steve? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine. We don’t have to stay here, if you’re cold, I...’

‘I’m fine. It’s nice here.’ Tony made his mind up for him, spotting the bench and going to sit on it. Steve trailed behind, suddenly awkward.

‘So this is East High’s darkest secret,’ remarked Tony. ‘How did you find it?’

‘Someone showed me.’

‘Was it Bucky?’

All the air left Steve’s lungs. ‘What do you know about Bucky?’

Tony shrugged. ‘Only what Bruce told me. He said you two were friends, then he moved away.’

‘That sums it up well.’

‘Were you guys... together, or what?’

 _No,_ Steve might have said. _He was my best friend, that was all._

Only, was it all?

Yes, they had shared school lunches and stuck fiercely together in adjacent bus seats. They’d gone to parties and drunk stolen booze and copied each other’s homework. They’d pulled each other out of fights, and more or less adopted each other’s families. All the sort of stuff friends do.

But there was more. The ache Steve felt when Bucky started dating, the uncertain gratitude when Bucky broke up with anyone who didn’t like Steve. He’d never been sure of what it was he felt, only that it was reciprocated. There had been times – after alley fights, when they were in Steve’s kitchen fixing each other up – when he caught sight of Bucky looking at him in a way that didn’t feel entirely platonic.

‘We never dated, no,’ he said to Tony, because that was true, whether he liked it for not.

‘Have you guys spoken since he moved?’

‘No. We kinda had a fight.’

‘And you haven’t made up? Look, I’m possibly the worst person in the world to give social advice, but if you were that close surely you need closure of some kind.’

Steve had picked up the phone so many times only to put it down again; plagued by the fear that Bucky would just hang up on him. ‘I don’t know if that would be a good idea.’

‘Okay. Never mind, it’s not really my business.’

‘Let’s talk about something else. I didn’t bring you up here to whine about my life.’

‘So what did you plan on doing? Seducing me?’

‘My methods of seduction rarely involve so many plants. I usually prefer slow piano music and a geeky pianist watching.’

Tony laughed, and a warmth started to spread through Steve. Tony was so easy to be with, he didn’t have to spend all his time worrying about what to say next. It was as if they’d known each other all their lives, only to have their memories wiped and have to relearn everything about each other.

Last December, Natasha had made it a personal mission to find someone to date Steve, with the reasoning that it would cheer him up. Steve had complied, albeit reluctantly, more due to the fact that Natasha was impossible to argue with than anything else. The first date was with another junior, a girl from the marching band. After one extremely awkward coffee, they had come to a mutual agreement not to pursue any further relations.

The second date was with the cutest sophomore Natasha could find. He and Steve went to see _The Great Gatsby_ , and had an enormous argument on the way home about the ways in which the American dream was represented. Far from creating chemistry, the disagreement destroyed any chance they’d had of getting along, and even now they avoided eye contact in the hallways. After that Natasha had accepted Steve’s resignation from the experiment.

Perhaps the reason he was able to talk so easily to Tony was that, the fact that it wasn’t staged in the slightest. He didn’t know where this was going to go, but not did he have to.

_______

 

Accidental meeting with cute pianist aside, Natasha was less-than-thrilled with recent events. Though Steve still showed up for every practice, he was usually in a state of exhaustion, missing passes and tiring faster than anyone with muscles that size ought to.

‘We have to do something,’ said Maria, on the drive home one afternoon. ‘State nationals are a _week_ away. If he carries on like this he’s going to take all of us down with him.’

‘What can we do?’ It was Sam’s turn in the back, next to their various book and kit bags. ‘He’s sixteen, he’s allowed to date who he wants.’

‘Sam, it’s been two months and he hasn’t called Bucky _once._ Steve is one of my best friends and I adore him, but he is not good at social stuff. And he doesn’t just want to be with the nerd, he wants to sing with him in front of people instead of getting a college sports scholarship.’

‘Are you saying we should care more about basketball than our friend?’ Sam’s dissatisfaction was evident.

‘I’m saying we should give a damn about our futures. He clearly isn’t, and he’s our _captain._ Steve has all his life for dating, but we only get to play this game once.’

‘So, what, we need to break them up?’ Maria was onboard already.

‘Temporarily,’ said Natasha, with a pointed glance at Sam. ‘Once this game is over he can do what he wants.’

He sighed. ‘All right. Don’t blame me if it all goes wrong.’

‘I vote we recruit Banner,’ said Maria, ignoring him. ‘They have a decathlon thing coming up. I can’t imagine they’re too happy with Stark.’

The gears had started to turn inside Natasha’s head. ‘We can’t just tell Steve to snap out of it, he’ll get too defensive. We have to make him reach the conclusion himself.’

Sam frowned. ‘How do you plan on doing that?’

She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Some good old-fashioned guilt tripping.’

 

Steve rolled up to training ten minutes late, after losing track of time walking Tony to a revision session. He was fully braced for the reprimands and snide remarks his tardiness would usually elicit, only to find to his surprise that the gym hall was empty. He retraced his steps through the locker rooms, and to his astonishment came across the entire team, crammed into one compartment. They had set up a table, on which rested all the trophies the Wildcats had ever won, and next to those framed photographs of previous East High students that had gone on to be sporting superstars.

This was ... odd, to say the least. Steve’s good spirits began to ebb away, to be replaced by a sense of gnawing suspicion. ‘What’s going on here?’

‘What’s going on is that you don’t seem to care if we win or lose,’ Natasha stepped forward. ‘You’re one of the greatest players to wear a Wildcats uniform. You played varsity in your sophomore year. We chose _you_ as our captain.’

‘Every year at state nationals we say this is going to be our year,’ said Sam. ‘But _this_ is our year. We’ve been training for months. The rest of us, we’ve committed ourselves. We have no lives outside of basketball.’

‘Other kids sleep in at the weekend, we go running and then have extra practices,’ said Maria. ‘We have given our all to this. You promised to do the same.’

‘I _am_ ,’ Steve protested weakly. ‘I care about this just as much as you do. The team means everything to me.’

‘Does it?’ Natasha narrowed her eyes. ‘We have barely seen you since winter break. You’re supposed to be our friend, but where are you when we need you? Running off without a moment’s notice, cancelling plans. And when you do show up, you play so badly you still let everyone down.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Steve muttered. ‘Look, maybe I got carried away. But I’ve been managing. Why is it so impossible for me to do both?’

‘You want to audition for fun,’ said Maria. ‘If you quit, you only let one person down. This game is _our_ future. There will be talent scouts there. If we can’t get a sports scholarship, then some of us can’t go to college. Did you think about that?’

His mouth dried up, and he struggled for something to say, for a way to defend himself from the accusation when he knew it was true. He _hadn’t_ stopped to think about what the consequences might be for the others. His father being an ex-superstar with a long list of contacts Steve had never had to worry about college in the same way.

Natasha’s expression softened. ‘We aren’t asking for the world here, Steve.’

Singing was fun. It was easy and fun and a way to get away from everything for a little while. Only he’d never stopped to think whether he needed the escape, or even if he deserved it. His was hardly the hardest of lives; the rich white athletic American boy, who could complain about the state of the world and yet still benefit from it.

‘All right,’ he said, lifting his head to meet her gaze. ‘I’ll quit the show, I won’t audition. I’ll do whatever I need to to convince you that I’m on board a hundred percent.’

‘What about the boy?’ Maria asked, her hands resting on her hips in a deliberately confrontational stance.  ‘The scientist.’

‘Tony doesn’t matter,’ Steve insisted, ignoring the pang it caused him to say it and willing his friends to believe him. ‘Look, you’re right. Auditioning, that was a stupid idea to make life less boring. I can’t afford to take breaks like that, when you’re the ones I care about.’

‘That’s what I’m talking about!’ Maria fist-bumped Sam, and Natasha regarded Steve warily.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘I hope you meant that, Rogers.’

 

‘What do basketball players contribute to society?’ Bruce was asking, on the other side of the school. ‘Other than cheap entertainment, toxic masculinity and an unfair percentage of high school funding being put towards it, while the arts and sciences go neglected? Furthermore, what does Steve Rogers contribute to society? Aside from being a poster boy for vacation steroids, that is?’

‘What are you trying to say?’ Tony crossed his arms.

‘I’m trying to open your eyes to the fact that the basketball team are not people who keep their commitments.’

‘Because you know them so well, right?’

Bruce sighed. ‘I’m trying to be your friend, Tony.’

‘Doesn’t seem like it.’

‘Steve is not different. I’ll admit; I was encouraging about your relationship at first. I thought as a newcomer to the school it was only fair that you test out different cliques in order to find your own space. I never expected it to get this far.’

‘How far is that, exactly? I’m not dating him, we’re friends. Pals. _Buddies._ Whatever you want to call it.’

‘So if he were to express romantic interest in you, it wouldn’t be reciprocated?’

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘And see, _that_ is why I’m concerned. I appreciate that you joined our decathlon team more as an act of spontaneous charity than actual interest, and so when I speak it is not as your leader. I have no right to dictate to you what you do outside of our meetings.’

‘Damn right you don’t.’

‘However whatever snide remarks you may make, I _am_ your friend and so I think it’s my duty to show you this.’

‘Show me what? The average SAT scores of East High athletes? I don’t have time for this.’

‘Trust me, you do.’ Bruce reached for his laptop, opened it up and tapped a key. A grainy picture of Steve appeared, which on closer inspection was revealed to be a screencap from a video.

‘What is this?’

‘I really am sorry.’ He hit play.

The picture quality was so poor that it took Tony a moment to realize that Steve must be in one of the locker rooms. He was looking and speaking to someone just to the right of the camera, occasionally focusing on other points around the room. The audio was similarly shoddy, but with the volume turned all the way up it was easy to hear what he was saying.

 _‘I’ll quit the show, I won’t audition. I’ll do whatever I need to to convince you that I’m on board a hundred percent.’_ An obvious jump cut, and then, ‘ _Tony doesn’t matter. Look, you’re right. Auditioning, that was a stupid idea to make life less boring. You’re the ones I care about.’_

The video ended, and Tony took a step backwards. The solid foundation upon which he’d constructed his beliefs including his assurances that he was in fact liked, was splitting apart. Steve always acted like rehearsals were the best part of his day. He went out of his way to spend time with Tony. He was the one who urged them both to ‘think positive’ and would compliment Tony’s voice at damn near every opportunity.

So what was that? A joke? A ‘stupid idea to make life less boring?’ Immediately after the first audition, Tony made a joke about him being a ‘distraction’ from Steve’s regular life. He meant it playfully, flirtatiously, the idea of being Steve’s dark secret was admittedly appealing, but he hadn’t thought it through or stopped to consider the connotations of the word. 

Tony was never anyone’s main focus. He was a complication of family life; a geek that was good to have around, a couple of times a friend with benefits. Never anyone’s best friend or boyfriend or something that kept anyone up at night. He should have known that Steve was no exception to the rule.

‘Are you okay?’ Bruce was watching him tentatively.

Tony exhaled slowly, hoping he wasn’t shaking noticeably. ‘I will be.’

 

He moved through the school hallways on hyper-alert, scanning every corridor for Steve’s face. Once or twice he saw somebody in Wildcat gear and his heart nearly stopped, only to see it was someone he didn’t recognize. He didn’t know if he wanted to see Steve or not, only that he needed to get out of East High as soon as possible. The low ceilings and florescent lighting were starting to seem claustrophobic; he felt a desperate need to be someplace where he could see the sky.

He didn’t find Steve, but the reverse was not true. Tony was collecting a couple of books from his locker when he heard a familiar voice, and saw a tall figure lean up against the adjacent locker.

‘Hey, you up for a rehearsal at the weekend? I found an old version of _Lego Rock Band,_ thought we could use it for a warm-up.’

‘What’s the point?’ Tony’s stomach was churning unpleasantly. His biology notebook was stuck, wedged horizontally between the narrow walls. He tugged futilely at it, and shrank away as Steve leaned over to pull it free with one deft motion. Steve had brushed against him in the process, and Tony found himself recoiling violently from the contact.

‘Are you okay?’ a frown creased his friend’s forehead.

‘I’m fine.’ As though to prove the point, Tony reached out and closed the locker, stoically ignoring the odd look he was getting. ‘Are you?’

‘Yeah. So is the weekend not good? We could do it another time.’

He stared at the ground. ‘I don’t know, maybe you should check with the team. They’re your first priority, right?’

‘Tony, what – ’

He turned to face him. ‘I get it, okay? I was just an extra-curricular. Fun until something serious comes along and then I’m disposable. It’s okay, shit it’s happened enough times. I’ve done it to people too. Hey, maybe this is my karmic reward. Whatever, man, I don’t want to sing either.’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I don’t want to sing. You’re right, it was a stupid idea.’ He started walking away, craving solitude and yet hoping that Steve would care enough to come after him.

He didn’t.

 

Natasha was already leaving by the time Steve made it to the parking lot. He watched her for a moment, piling into her car with Sam and Maria, talking carelessly. He had no doubt that she’d give him a lift if he asked for one, but he wasn’t sure he could manage celebrations just now.

The bus was an even poorer option. After the conversation they’d just had, he didn’t think Tony would take too kindly to being sat next to. Following a further moment of deliberation, Steve turned around and started walking back towards the school offices.

His father was just finishing a cup of coffee when he knocked on his door. ‘Hi, Steve. Wasn’t expecting to see you.’

‘Hi, Dad.’ Strictly speaking, he was supposed to refer to him as Coach Rogers when they were on school grounds. Right now though, he needed a father, not a teacher. ‘I was wondering if you could give me a ride home today.’

‘Sure. I’ve got some paperwork, but that won’t take long.’ He waved at a chair. ‘Take a seat.’

Steve sat, trying not to notice all the framed family photos on the walls of his dad’s office. There was one of him aged six, holding his first basketball, and next to that a snapshot of his middle school sports team. He and Bucky were right at the front, each supporting half of a massive trophy. They both looked impossibly young. Steve gazed at it for a little too long before glancing away.

Five or so minutes later, his father shut down his office computer and began gathering his things. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

‘It’s not a problem,’ Steve rose hurriedly, tearing his eyes off a training schedule tacked to the opposite wall.

‘I have to ask – is anything wrong?’ Mr Rogers turned the light off and left the room, his son following close behind. ‘Romanoff usually drives you, doesn’t she?’

‘Yeah, she does.’ The less of an explanation he gave, the better it would be for everyone.

‘Have you two had a fight?’

‘No.’ _Not quite._ ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘I’m glad I’m not at high school anymore.’ His father unlocked the car, and they climbed in. It was unnaturally clean and bright compared to what Natasha drove, Steve felt anxious that he might get dirt on something.

‘If it isn’t Romanoff, what is it? Something’s been affecting your game; I’ve never seen you play so badly.’

‘Nothing’s wrong.’

‘Steve, you can tell me.’

‘Fine, I was doing something, and now I’m not. It’s been sorted out. I’m a true Wildcat, et cetera et cetera.’

‘What were you doing?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Is a father allowed to be interested in what his kid gets up to?’

 _Sure, when it suits him._ Still, it wasn’t like he could make this much worse.

‘I was going to audition for the winter musical. Me and this guy – we got a callback.’

‘You mean...singing?’

‘Yeah. Singing.’

‘Well. I won’t deny I’m surprised. Are you good at it?’

‘Fury thinks so.’

‘If you’ve impressed Fury that’s all you need in life.’

‘Yeah, well.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I guess. It doesn’t matter, I can’t do it anyway.’

‘Why not?’

‘Tony – my partner – doesn’t want to.’

‘Why not?’

‘I dunno, it’s weird. I thought he was enjoying it, but I suppose not. I’m not sure if I could do it either. I was letting my team down.’

‘Well, I’m not going to pretend I’m not relieved,’ Mr Rogers turned into their driveway. ‘But for your own sake, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.’

‘Yeah,’ Steve got out. ‘So am I.’

 

The bus seemed to take longer than usual. Tony sat in his usual spot by the window, grateful that the rest of the team was staying late to study. Ordinarily he might have joined them, dutifully tutoring and laughing at bad physics jokes. Bruce had made it quite clear that he’d be welcome and no mention would be made of the Steve incident, but Tony knew if he showed up there’d be an undercurrent of pity in everything anyone said to him and he wasn’t sure he could take that.

Better to be alone, to lift his feet onto the edge of his seat so that he could rest his chin on his knees and will himself not to fall apart. Not yet, not here, not now _._ He traced the design of the seat fabric – overlapping rectangles of orange and red, on a blue background – and tried to fill his brain with trivial things. The weather was slowly getting warmer, to make each cloudy day that little bit muggier. Horrible for sports, but it was okay; all the basketball took place in the school gymnasium.

No, no, something else. The cafeteria had just released a new menu. It’d been delayed, people said – the original release date was the start of term in the New Year. Tony had yet to try it; he preferred sticking to food he knew and liked. Steve was more adventurous, risking his taste buds to try the new spinach and ricotta quiche. The faces he’d made after taking the first bite were hilarious.

Steve again. Tony’s mind was stuck on replay of a song he didn’t want to hear. The bus lurched to a halt at his stop, and he rose slowly, walking past rows of seats without seeing them.

His house was empty when he got home. The last of the cardboard boxes was sitting in the hall, small and lonely with nothing in it. He kicked it aside, simultaneously glad that everything was finally unpacked and resentful that it meant that they were staying in Albuquerque. Right now he wouldn’t have any aversion to moving as many states away as possible.

He went up to his room and cleared a corner to sit in. Up until now he’d been functioning with the belief that once he got away from everything he’d be all right. That was what always worked in the past, when life became too bright and loud to keep up.

This room wasn’t as good as his last one. He wedged himself between a bookcase and the wall. The rooms in their Minnesota house had plenty of comfy nooks and crannies to hide in. Here, the skirting board was digging into his back, dragging him unpleasantly back to the physical world. The panicked nausea he’d been keeping at bay was washing over him, suffocating him. He closed in on himself, as though hoping if he made himself small enough he could stop existing. That’s what he’d like now, to just blink out of existence for a while and come back when things were a little quieter.

Tony buried his face in his hands, and waited for the universe to swallow him up.

_______

 

The following day was Saturday, dawning cool and clear. Steve’s schedule was fully booked, only when he woke up he found he couldn’t summon the motivation to get out of bed. There didn’t seem to be any point. Vaguely he was aware that there were things he needed to be doing, only the prospect of doing them was frankly unappealing.

He inspected himself as best he could, and was reassured to find he didn’t seem to have any physical ailment. When he didn’t appear for breakfast, his mother came to check on him. She took his temperature and pronounced him well, though observed that he’d been very tired of late and perhaps it was best if he stayed in bed.

Steve was happy to comply, especially once she’d moved his laptop so that he could access Netflix without getting up.

The arranged time for team practice came and went. He got a few texts and then a call from Maria, wanting to know why he hadn’t shown.

‘I don’t feel so great,’ he said. ‘I’ll probably give it a miss today.’

‘Are you sick? Steve, the game is in six days.’

‘I know, I know. I’ll see you guys later. I’m not feeling it right now.’ He hung up, feeling worse than before. All this was for the sake of his team, and now he couldn’t even be there for them.

He stayed in bed all morning and for most of the afternoon. Natasha dropped by for a visit around three. He heard her talking to his mom downstairs, and then she appeared in his doorway.

‘You weren’t kidding,’ she said, seating herself on the end of his bed. ‘You look like hell. Please tell me it’s not contagious.’

He managed half a smile. ‘You’re safe. How was training?’

‘Awful. Well okay, not as bad as it could have been. But we need you, dude.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘What are you sorry for? This? Do you think I’m so callous as to think you’re wallowing here because you’d rather eat stale Doritos than have fun with your friends?’ she sighed. ‘This is about Stark, isn’t it?’

‘He won’t even talk to me. I’ve been calling, texting. Everything.’

‘You really like him don’t you?’

‘D’you remember after...Bucky left, I said it was like he’d scooped out a part of me and taken it with him? And it didn’t hurt, but I could feel its absence?’

He locked his gaze with hers. ‘Tony fills that gap. I know it’s the cheesiest possible way of phrasing feelings, but yeah. He makes me feel like I’m doing more than just existing.’

Natasha took a deep breath. ‘You aren’t going to like what I have to say,’ she warned. ‘Just remember that I’m your best friend, and I was only trying to help.’

‘What?’ he propped himself up on his elbows, curious.

‘The other day, when we had that intervention or whatever it was, and got you to commit to the team...well, we filmed it. And got Bruce to show the footage to Tony.’

‘Shit,’ Steve sat bolt upright, with such force that he fell out of bed. ‘Shit shit shit.’ He barely seemed to notice that he was flailing on the floor. ‘That explains so much. Oh my god, what am I going to do?’

‘First off, are you mad at me?’

‘Yes, but I don’t have time to do it properly.’ He pulled off his pajama top and started rifling through his draws to find a clean shirt. ‘I’ll tell you what. If you help me fix it, I’ll forgive you. You planned it, I said it, we’re as bad as each other. I’ve been your friend long enough that I should have seen the strings attached.’

‘Okay then.’ There was a small pile of clean laundry on his nightstand. She tossed him a pair of socks. ‘Do you know where he lives?’

‘Yeah, near the library. I know the address but I’ve never been there.’

‘This appeasement thing could be difficult. Is he a flowers type of guy?’

An image of Tony staring at a bouquet of roses came to mind. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘What about doughnuts? The Stop-And-Shop is on our way.’

‘That might be a better idea.’

‘Come on, then.’ Pulling her keys from her pocket, Natasha led Steve out the front door to her car.

He was restless the whole way, fidgeting in his seat and fiddling with the CD player, asking ‘What should I say?’ every five seconds, and apparently not hearing anything she said in response.

Natasha soon gave up trying to calm him down. ‘Just fix him with your puppy eyes and plead him to take you back.’

Ten minutes later, they were pulling up in front of a cozy suburban residence with a tree house in the front yard. Steve got out, clutching a paper bag full of blueberry doughnuts.

‘Wholesome,’ Natasha remarked, as they walked up the front path. ‘I pictured Stark being an apartment guy.’

He rang the bell, and the door opened to reveal a smiling middle-aged woman he assumed was Tony’s mother.

‘Hi,’ he said, hoping he wasn’t giving a creepy pursuing people-to-their-houses vibe. ‘Is Tony around? I’m his friend Steve, from school.’

Tony’s mom frowned. ‘I’m afraid he has another friend round at the moment. I’m not sure it’s convenient.’

‘Please, I really need to talk to him.’ Behind her in the hallway, he saw a couple of figures descending the stairs in the background. He recognized Tony immediately, but it took him a second to realize that the blond guy next to him was Clint.

Natasha didn’t need any urging. ‘Oh my god!’ she exclaimed, darting forwards and ducking around Mrs Stark. ‘ _Clint?_ What the hell are you doing here? You haven’t called, haven’t so much as sent me a text but you have time for social visits? You are _so_ getting dumped.’ She grabbed his wrist and dragged him further into the house, ranting furiously under her breath.

‘They have a rocky relationship,’ Steve told a bemused Mrs Stark. ‘I’m sure they’ll work it out. May I please speak to Tony?’

Tony answered himself, walking up to join his mother and regarding Steve with the same caution as one would give a mountain lion. ‘All right. You’ve got five minutes.’

Relieved, Steve nodded politely to Mrs Stark and entered the house. His nausea was mixing with panic to create something even less enjoyable. If he messed it up now, he wouldn’t get another chance. 

Natasha let go of Clint when they reached the kitchen. ‘Sorry about that,’ she said quite unapologetically, closing the door behind her.

‘No need,’ said Clint, though he was massaging his wrist. Her fingers had left small red marks. ‘Though are you sure that talking is what they need right now? I would have gone for time.’

‘Yeah, well they don’t have a whole lot of that. Game’s on Friday and Steve’s worse than useless right now.’ She hopped up onto the kitchen counter and looked down at him.  ‘And it’s kinda my fault too, so I owe him one.’

‘Let me guess. Bruce’s scheme – you were in on it too?’

‘In on it? I instigated it. All this misery is because of me. Hey, maybe I can put it on my resume.’

‘Wow. It’s a cold thing to do, but I can’t say I’m not impressed.’ Clint folded his arms against his chest. It had the effect of tightening his shirtsleeves around his biceps, and Natasha noticed he’d been telling the truth about going to the gym. ‘Why the change of heart?’

‘I’m not made of stone.’

‘And?’

‘ _And,_ I told you - Steve sucks when he’s miserable. Why else would I be here?’

‘I don’t know. It could all be part of some elaborate ploy.’

‘To what? Invade and conquer the world’s smallest kitchen?’

‘You tell me.’

She just rolled her eyes. ‘How come you were here, anyway?’

‘Shocking as it might sound, I rather like Tony. He might have the world’s biggest ego but he’s a decent guy.’

‘Likely to be forgiving, d’you think?’

‘Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s got a lot of pride. Hopefully not enough to ruin everything.’

‘Yeah, that would be depressing.’

‘You got any more cheerful topics of conversation? I’m coming up empty-handed.’

‘Uh, okay. Tell me about your musical.’

‘I said more cheerful, not dull.’

‘Oh come on, it’s made Steve crazy enough to sing. That alone renders it magical on some level. Tell me.’

‘If you insist.’ He looked around for a chair, and seeing none, added, ‘there space on that counter for two?’

‘Who’s got a secret agenda now?’ she moved over to make space, and he hopped up beside her. The bench was so small that their shoulders were touching.

‘I’m doing you a favour, Romanoff. Not everybody gets to hear about the deeply emotional process of writing a for the stage.’

‘Wow, I’m not running screaming in the other direction. I must be really bored.’ She made herself comfortable, moving a toaster so she could lean against the cupboards. ‘Proceed.’

 

The walls of Tony’s room were painted dark blue, with glow-in-the-dark star stickers arranged in complicated constellations on the ceiling. White curtains framed a large window that overlooked the front yard, and every surface was covered in a mixture of books and technology. A crate if old phone parts sat on the desk, next to a stack of blueprints that Steve couldn’t hope to decipher.

‘Natasha told me that they showed you the film,’ he said. He figured he might as well plunge in at the deep end – pleasantries were hardly going to make this conversation easier.

Tony sat down on the empty corner of his bed. Steve remained standing.

‘It’s true, I said some mean stuff. And I can apologize and apologize and I know it won’t magically make things better. So I’m just going to tell you some true things and you can make your mind up after that.

‘I love singing with you. It’s something I never thought I would be able to do and yet with you I want to do nothing else. All my life I’ve always been the basketball guy. I never got a chance just to be a guy, you know? Decide for myself what I want and what I’m going to do. But you make me feel like I can.’

A short silence followed his words. Tony was fidgeting, trying to figure out an appropriate response.

‘That’s sweet,’ he said at last. ‘But like, that’s a lot to put on one guy. Much as I love to brag, I can’t be your – salvation, or whatever it is you want me to be. I’m just a person. I have plenty of my own shit to deal with.’

‘I’m not asking you to be. Everyone has limits, and I don’t want to push yours.’

‘Then what are you trying to say?

‘You’re important to me. _This_ is important to me. And I messed up, but I really, really hope that doesn’t make it over.’

Tony looked past him, to the corner by the bookcase. Caring about people made you vulnerable. He’d never felt for anyone the way he did towards Steve, and the second that went wrong he’d been set back months. He couldn’t be Steve’s happiness, and he certainly couldn’t ask Steve to be his.

 ‘Give me a doughnut,’ he said, nodding to the paper bag still clutched in Steve’s hand. ‘What kind are they?’

‘Blueberry. Will you still sing with me?’

Tony took the whole bag, pulled one out and bit into it. Jam spurted out and he could feel the light powdery sugar coating his mouth. For better or for worse, the decision whether to care about Steve had already been made, regardless of sensibility. ‘Okay,’ he said, after the first mouthful. ‘The bribe and the pleading is sufficient.’

Steve hadn’t known how anxious he was till it was gone, washed away by relief. ‘Should probably check on the others,’ he remarked, a little sadly. He would very much have liked to become properly acquainted with Tony’s room, only it was unkind to unleash Natasha on somebody else’s house without making regular checks. It would also be a good idea to ensure that Clint was still alive. They hadn’t been alone together very long, but she’d been known to decimate people in less.

‘Yeah,’ Tony got up, still chewing. 

Steve needn’t have worried; when they found them the two were engaged in an animated conversation. Having been evicted from the kitchen, they were sitting halfway up the stairs, arguing about what sounded like the Russian revolution.

Hearing footsteps, Natasha glanced up. ‘Oh, it’s you. Everything hunky-dory again?’

‘More or less,’ said Tony, gesturing for them to move so that he and Steve could descend. ‘You two look comfy. I hope you haven’t been terrorizing my mother.’

‘On the contrary. Your friend Barton here has some very interesting and inaccurate views about Lenin’s policies in early 1918.’

‘Who’d have thought,’ Steve muttered, and Tony snorted.

The kitchen door opened, and Mrs Stark appeared. ‘Have you kids sorted yourselves out?’

‘We’re all good,’ Natasha smiled, rising and slinging an arm around Clint’s shoulders. ‘And in fact, we were just leaving.’

‘See you tomorrow?’ Tony asked Steve. ‘I think the second verse could do with a little work.’

‘Tomorrow’s good,’ he agreed.

‘I got family coming round,’ shrugged Clint. ‘Practice a capella. You two like the sound of your own voices, it’ll be fine.’

Tony walked them to the door. There was an awkward moment when Steve wasn’t sure whether to go in for a hug or not. He settled for a handshake.

‘See you, sweetie,’ Natasha was saying nauseatingly to Clint. Her hand was still on his shoulder.

Two could play at this game. ‘I miss you already,’ he said, with a backward glance at Mrs Stark. Then, with a rakish smile he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

The front door closed with a click.

Steve raised his eyebrows. ‘Committed to our roles, are we?’

‘You’re just sad you didn’t get to give Tony a goodbye smooch,’ she teased. Now that there was no need to prolong the façade, she and Clint had stepped away from each other. To him, she added, ‘Well timed. I thought I was gonna sneeze when you leant in, but I held it.’

‘Not bad yourself,’ he returned. ‘You do drama?’

‘Nope, I’m just dramatic. You need a ride home?’

‘It’s okay, I got myself here.’ He nodded towards a small black pickup parked halfway down the street.

‘You drive a truck?’ Steve was learning a lot about Clint today. At rehearsals he was always quietly enthusiastic, but not the most outgoing of people. It was interesting to see him in a different environment.

‘It was my dad’s,’ Clint shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll see you guys Monday?’

‘So, the boyfriend charade,’ said Steve, as he and Natasha got into her car. ‘What was that about?’

‘It got you in, didn’t it?’ she started the engine. ‘The sacrifices I make for friendship.’

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Yeah. It’s very noble of you.’

 

After they’d left, Tony called Bruce. ‘I’m kinda mad at you still,’ he said, ‘but I’ve forgiven Steve, so yeah. Your plan failed.’

‘It was a stupid plan anyway,’ Bruce sounded a little relieved. ‘I’m glad you worked it out.’

‘Well, it’s not perfect, but we have reached an agreement. Guess we’ll have to see how it goes.’

It wasn’t as weird as he’d feared. Steve came round the following day for their planned rehearsal. While they spent more time discussing whether Pluto deserved planetary status than actually singing, it provided an opportunity to get comfortable around each other again. There were a couple of awkward moments, particularly when Steve’s dad phoned to ask why he’d skipped practice, but without Clint it was oddly easier to let it slide.

Monday arrived, bringing with it the normalcy of a schedule. They wasted their morning free period discussing whether it was necessary to choreograph a dance and whether they’d be able to learn it in time. Steve ultimately vetoed the idea by pointing out that they were insanely busy already. The callback was only four days away, with the Scholastic decathlon and state nationals the day after. Any time that Steve wasn’t going over team tactics with Sam, administering last minute coaching to Pietro or frantically scribbling out homework answers, he was in the rehearsal room listening to Clint’s patient instruction. Tony’s workload wasn’t any smaller. In addition to being the decathlon team’s star member, he was tutoring some of the others. It was tiresome work; unfortunately it yielded such satisfactory results that Bruce regarded it a necessity.  

 

Natasha didn’t know what impulse led her to visit the theatre department during her free period. She was bored and Sam had given her more chocolate chip cookies than she could eat by herself, so it naturally followed through that she should find someone to annoy.

Clint was in the stalls, sat in the second row with a pile of textbooks next to him. He was sitting with his feet propped up on the seat in front, making pencil notes on a copy of the script.

‘Hey,’ she sat in the row beside him. ‘You want a cookie?’

‘What?’

She brandished the ziplock bag. ‘Sam made them. I kindly offered to take a few off his hands.’

‘You’re not allowed to eat in here,’ said Clint. ‘But I’ll make an exception for cookies.’

‘A wise choice.’ She passed him one. ‘Whatcha doing?’

‘Going over a scene. They haven’t read it yet, so I don’t know how it will sound.’

‘Usually by the time you’re auditioning people the script is already written, right?’

‘Yes, and it is. These cookies are _really_ good, by the way. I’m not so good at writing monologues. I just can’t get it to flow.’

‘May I read it?’ she was onto her second cookie already, wiping the crumbs off with one hand.

‘I have a better idea. Would you mind reading it aloud? Arnold goes off on a bit of a ramble and I need to know if it sounds crap.’

‘Sure.’ She took the paper, and started to read. ‘ _Do you ever just look at someone and feel like their life is a house, and the closest you can get is staring through the window? Other people go in and out, some are permanent residents, but you’ll always be on the outside. And they might come and visit you now and again and you start thinking maybe this is it, and then they go back inside and you can’t follow them. And they’re nice and funny and you want to matter in their lives so badly, but wanting just isn’t enough.’_

Clint didn’t say anything for a long minute. Then at last he sighed, and said, ‘Well I don’t know if it’s actually good or you just made it sound like it was.’

‘It _is_ good,’ Natasha handed the script back to him, along with another cookie. ‘Morbid, maybe, but it’s a cool metaphor.’

‘Thanks. You write at all?’

‘Essays. Sick notes. Not stories.’

‘You ever want to? You do give off a Nancy Drew vibe of being able to do anything.’

‘I wish. So how are the dream team shaping up?’

‘They’re fine. Oh, and can you tell them that Thor got the callback rescheduled for Friday – something about suiting the stars.’

‘What? Shit, Friday? Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, they were talking to Fury about it? Is it bad?’

‘Bad does not cover it. A disaster might be closer. Friday is when we have our game. Tony’s got a decathlon.’ She leapt up. ‘I gotta find Bruce.’

‘And do what?’

‘I don’t know. You coming?’

Clint glanced at the stacks of work, and then at her. ‘Yeah, okay.’

 

Bruce Banner was talking to one of the chemistry teachers when Natasha found him.

‘We have an emergency,’ she told him by way of greeting.

‘I’m a little busy right now,’ he said uncomfortably. ‘Could we talk at lunch?’

‘Which part of the word _emergency_ didn’t register. We’re talking catastrophic here. Think meteors.’

‘Is anybody dying?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Can’t it wait? I will be done in five minutes.’

‘What if I told you it might prevent Tony from going to the decathlon?’

‘All _right._ Mrs Bell, would it be okay if I spoke to you after this afternoon’s lesson?’

‘It shouldn’t be too great an inconvenience.’ With an air of decided exasperation, she withdrew to her office and left the students in peace.

Natasha outlined the situation as quickly as she could. Bruce’s expression grew grimmer and grimmer.

‘This going to be hard,’ he acknowledged, when she was done. ‘Can we not persuade Mr Fury to change it back?’

‘Clearly you’ve never met him,’

Clint joined the conversation. ‘He wasn’t too eager to let Steve and Tony in in the first place. He’s unlikely to risk upsetting Thor just to please them.’

‘Strategy meeting?’ Bruce suggested. ‘At lunch?’

‘Sounds good. I’ll bring Steve, you get Tony there.’

His phone beeped. ‘I should check that. See you later?’

‘See ya.’

‘Have any ideas yet?’ Clint asked her, as they walked away.

‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘I’ve still got cookies, though. That’s gotta be the next best thing.’

‘I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.’

‘Why the faith?’

‘Because I know you, and you’re not the type of person who gives up on getting their way.’

‘That’s cute.’

_______

 

Competition nerves were not something Tony was used to. Normally so confident of his ability, he breezed through competitions like they barely mattered. Today, however, the pressure was on not merely to win, but to do so quickly. The first stage of the plan depended on it.

He didn’t see Steve on Friday morning, but got a text just after his first class. _"good luck."_ He replied in kind, and tried to suppress the rising tide of nausea inside him.

‘Are you okay?’ Bruce spotted him the moment he entered the room, walking over to ensure everything was running smoothly.

He forced a smile. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘You’ve got a point. You creamed us all in practice. You’re gonna be fine.’

‘I hope so. Otherwise it’s going to be really embarrassing.’ He took a breath. ‘I have won every competition I’ve entered since seventh grade. My GPA has never been below 4.0.’

‘That’s the spirit. Do you want coffee? I don’t drink it normally but it’s free for us, so what the hell.’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Moving mechanically, he approached the machine on the other side of the room. He’d have to ration himself to a single cup, or else the caffeine would only add to the jittery state his nerves were in.

Though the beverage smelt better than it tasted, the warm cardboard cup was nice to hold and he felt a little calmer with something to do. His confidence rose further when he saw the other competitors. He might suck at reading people in social situations, but Tony was usually very good at figuring out how intelligent people were. It was nothing to do with their physical attributes, more with how they handled themselves, responded to instruction and took in details about the new environment. It was hardly a failsafe method, though it had worked so far. Steve, for example, was intelligent but not ambitious. He was content with a basic comprehension of the world. A Gryffindor through-and-through.

Natasha, on the other hand, was more complex. She definitely had ambition, as well as great intelligence, and was the type of person to make the most of her assets. She had already shown how dedicated she was to getting her way. Tony found her unsettling to talk to, as a potential intellectual equal.

The opposing decathlon team was far less intimidating. The competitors were supposed to shake hands before it began to maintain a spirit of sporting goodwill or something equally ridiculous. Moving through the crowd, Tony made his assessment. It wasn’t hard. They were smart, yes, and studious, but not _curious._ They were the sort of students that were easy to teach, happily accepting what they were taught without a nagging desire to know _how_ or _why_ or _what then?_ Tony was a slave to his impulses, and yet it always paid off.

‘I wouldn’t worry,’ Tony told Bruce, as they headed back to don lab coats. ‘They’re sheep. Quick, well-trained sheep, maybe.’

‘So what are we? Dogs?’

‘Now you’re talking.’

Bruce’s eyes settled on the clock on the far wall. ‘It’s time. You’re up first. I don’t need to tell you not to worry you know it all backwards. Just remember, you need to be done by half past. Any later than that and you’ll be really pushing it.’

‘Okay. Don’t let me down.’ Tony clapped him on the shoulder and strode forwards. He was not afraid of this competition. Out of everything he was doing today, this had to be the least challenging thing.

He took his place opposite the first member of the other team. They were grinning awkwardly, nerves written plainly across their features. Tony looked out to his audience, a mixture of Scholastic judges, East High teachers and the rest of the teams, and felt himself relax. The attention was on him, just the way he liked it.

‘And, start.’

The two markers were lying next to each other. Tony seized his, consulted the question and felt a surge of satisfaction. This was going to be child’s play. He stated to write, thinking the formula out as he went along. The other contestant was working at a similar speed. It must have been a question that they felt confident on.

Tony sped up. When under pressure, he either responded really well or really badly, and sometimes he couldn’t tell until he was done. There was nothing to do but get on with it and hope that this was one of his good days.

The only distraction was the wall clock, ticking with almost malicious volume. It was his real competitor, and unlike the other contestant it would make no mistakes. When he next checked it, the time was twenty-five past.

He reached the end of the equation, and threw his marker down to ring the bell. An examiner rose to check his working. Even though Tony knew it was correct, he still felt a slight twinge of unease. His answer had to be right; it _had_ to. Everyone was expecting it to be perfect, and perfection was his thing.

The examiner finished reading the equation. He turned to Tony, and nodded. The East High team started to clap, immediately followed by the teachers. Tony shook hands with his beaten adversary and hurried to the back of the room. He would have liked to hang around and watch Helen slaughter her opposing contestant, but there wasn’t time.

‘The game’s started,’ Bruce told him. ‘Steve’s waiting for the signal.’

‘I thought you were going to send it yourself,’ Tony pulled the laptop towards him, opening the relevant file. ‘Why wait?’

‘There was no point sending it till you were done,’ said Bruce evasively, and by that Tony suspected he meant he hadn’t been entirely certain that he would finish on time. ‘And you’re done now, so…’

‘ _So,_ barring any transmission errors, the code should go into effect,’ Tony hit the _send_ key, ‘round about now.’

‘You got five minutes before you need to be at the theater. Better go now. I’d love to watch, but I’m after Helen.’

‘Good luck.’

‘Yeah, you too. Come find us after, okay?’

‘Sure.’ Tony closed the laptop quickly, and without stopping to change tore from the room.

 

Nobody had scored so far, though Wanda had come close a couple of times. Unsurprisingly, the opposing team was good. Possibly better than they were, though Steve was doing his best not to entertain the notion. Sweat was pooling on the back of his neck and soaking his hair, and it was taking every ounce of concentration not to let the other team get the better of him. It hadn’t taken them long to identify him as the star player, and were doing their best to block his movements. Though the limits were frustrating, it did mean that the other team was paying less attention to the other players. Sam, Maria and Natasha had all been playing as long as Steve had, and were taking full advantage of their relative invisibility, while Pietro ran laps around them all. He was still clumsy with a ball and far less game-savvy than his sister, but the extra coaching sessions seemed to be paying off.

Their opponents weren’t the only ones who were distracted. Every time Steve had a second to spare he was consulting the gym clock, hoping anxiously that Tony would pull through. Without his success, Steve would remain trapped in the game and miss the audition completely.

They were cutting it fine. The stress of concentrating on the game as well as keeping an eye on the clock was starting to show in Steve’s performance. He kept zoning out, resulting in his missing what should have been an easy pass from Maria. To his relief Sam was there to scoop up the ball, but the rookie mistake was concerning, causing him to become even more anxious than before. Natasha might have given him leave to continue singing, but if the complicated callback plan cost them this game, she wasn’t likely to be very forgiving.

Steve thought he heard a noise coming from the crowd, and when he dared to look up they were indeed whispering among themselves and pointing at the scoreboard. He followed the direction of their gaze and saw to his relief that the display was malfunctioning, flashing a sequence of random numbers in place of the nil-nil score. Sure enough, Tony had delivered, and he felt a little bad for doubting him.

None of the other players had realized yet. Tearing his eyes from the board, Steve hurriedly re-entered the game. He was still on-duty as a Wildcat until time-out was called, so he’d just have to hope the organizers would notice soon. Natasha was the only one of his team who knew a disruption was planned – he doubted the others would have appreciated the risk if they’d known in advance.

It was agony to keep playing, knowing that Tony would be waiting for him on the other side of the school. Steve had a chance to score and missed, the ball bouncing off the rim of the hoop and back down. Before he had a chance to mentally berate himself, the whistle blew shrilly to announce a time-out.

He didn’t hesitate. Tossing the ball to Wanda, he flashed a thumbs-up to Natasha and sprinted for the door. Never had the distance between the departments seemed longer or his own running slower as it did at that moment. He burst through doors, raced along hallways and jumped up stairs, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. He was going to be late and he couldn’t afford to be; Fury would send them away and more unforgivably, he would have let Tony down.

 

‘He’ll be here soon,’ said Clint, in a vaguely reassuring way. ‘Steve’s a committed dude. And, you know, a fast runner.’

‘I’m not worried,’ Tony insisted, though his fidgeting suggested otherwise. He was tapping out the beat of _Stairway to Heaven_ on the back of the seat in front of him and resolutely ignoring the act onstage. The Odinson brothers were performing their half of the audition, which Fury was watching with the affectionate air of a doting parent. Thor had gone for one of the peppier numbers from the musical, and together with Loki sped it up to the point where the two of them looked more like cheerleaders than actors. Listening to the prerecorded music, Clint felt an overwhelming relief that he hadn’t been asked to accompany them. Thor liked everything brash, loud and fast, including his supporting music.

Loki was a different story. Less commandeering and altogether quieter, he was decidedly the lesser of two evils. During their rehearsals Clint had gained the impression that he resented forever being in his brother’s shadow, though he lacked the confidence to challenge the point. Despite this he was a talented choreographer, and Clint supposed if the two went to different colleges, Loki might have a chance to showcase his skills without having to tailor them to Thor’s taste.

The number ended to applause, Fury’s entourage clapping loudest. The brothers bowed themselves offstage, and Clint glanced towards the exits. Still no sign of Steve.

‘Tony Stark and Steve Rogers,’ Fury called, standing up and scanning the stalls. Clint nudged Tony forwards, and reluctantly he walked to the front, radiating confrontational vibes and yet conspicuously alone.

‘Where’s your partner, Stark? He certainly seems to have a problem with punctuality.’

‘He’ll be here,’ Tony insisted. ‘Can we please wait, it won’t be long.’

‘If he were a professional actor I would fire him,’ said Fury sternly. ‘Such dallying is not tolerated in theatre. This is his second offence, and so I shall take it to mean he isn’t suitably dedicated to the show to make it his top priority.’

‘It _is,’_ Tony argued. ‘You should have seen him this week; he’s been nearly killing himself trying to do everything at once. Would it hurt you to wait five minutes, for once?’

At these words, uttered impertinently in the heat of the moment, Fury swelled indignantly. He looked ready to let fly with an impassioned and lengthy speech on the importance of etiquette when one of the far doors banged open to reveal Steve, out of breath and still clad in his orange Wildcats uniform.

‘I’m here,’ he gasped, his eyes darting across to meet Tony’s in a silent apology. ‘Sorry I’m late.’

“Sorry’s’ do not cut it,’ Fury told him. ‘We are done here.’

‘What are they gonna watch, then?’ Steve stepped away from the doorway, and Tony’s jaw dropped. The entire basketball team was gathered in the corridor, and behind them a good third of the crowd. Clint was willing to bet everything he owned that a musical audition had never had such a big audience before.

The importance of that fact was not lost on Fury. Regarding Steve with grudging admiration, he resumed his seat, saying ‘All right, this once. Let us see the magic you are so desperate to reveal.’

Clint, Tony and Steve ascended the stage, Steve muttering yet more apologies for his lateness. Tony could barely hear him. The butterflies in his stomach had progressed from fluttering nervously to throwing a full-on party.   Try as he might, it was impossible to empty his mind of the billion and one possible things that could go wrong. He was going to sing, in front of people – not a random crowd of strangers who couldn’t care less, but students of his school. If he messed it up it was sure to be the talk of the school, and he wasn’t sure he could face that. Moreover, what if somebody videoed it on their phone? It was just the sort of thing that could go viral, and everybody was always saying that the Internet is forever. Everyone at his old schools was sure to find out, he’d hardly kept a low profile. It might become the variety news of the week; he could already see the headlines.  _Teen Tech Genius Can’t Sing For Toffee_.

If only this were a dream, and he could wake up somewhere far away from here. Only this was excruciatingly and unshakably real, and Steve was handing him a microphone with such a confident and trusting expression that Tony wanted to scream. This was too much, it was all too much, he shouldn’t have signed up for this in the first place, he was going to let _Steve_ down and somehow that would be worse than any number of viral videos.

‘Hey,’ Steve touched his shoulder gently. ‘Look at me.’

Tony had done a lot of looking of late. Steve was so good-looking it was hard not to. He was beautiful, of course - staring at chiseled jawlines and crystal blue eyes was not an occupation Tony would tire of any time soon – and he was righteous too. Bruce had once referred to Steve as ‘a representation of what America would like to see itself as – loyal, courageous and humble, rather than the racist and unbearably capitalist truth’ and that seemed pretty accurate.

Yet when Tony looked at him now, it wasn’t his disarming good looks or stalwart personality that leapt out at him. It was trust, the right kind, not the sort made from eggshells that people usually offered. It was genuine and wholehearted and felt to Tony like an unspoken promise not to expect the world from him. Steve knew about delicate people – hell, he was one himself – and was aware that humans had limits.

‘Just like the first time we sang together,’ Steve whispered. ‘You remember that?’

Holiday. The last night, so close to freedom and then the disco. The scrawny guy on the stage opposite him, easily a head shorter than everyone else and yet standing up so straight he appeared taller. Bad lighting and soft music.

Tony nodded.

Clint began to play the opening bars, and the chatter in the audience died away. Tony felt none of the rush he usually got from a crowd, but nor did he feel like he was about to die anymore. A calm had settled over him, quieting the butterflies and stilling his nerves. Was this, he wondered idly, how people felt as they mounted the gallows?

Steve sang the first couple of lines gently, reassuringly. He seemed to have forgotten that they even had an audience. Tony, on the other hand, needed to remember them if he wanted to do his best.

A sudden fear struck him - that his voice would crack, but he had rehearsed it half a hundred times and when he did sing his voice soared and _flew,_ like a plane that supports itself on nothing, up to join Steve’s.

It became easier, as they continued. It was just like in practice, only he was starting to feel the adrenaline. A grin was spreading across his face, and it felt oddly like he was hearing the words of the song for the first time. Or perhaps it would be simpler to say that he’d sung them before, but this was the first time he’d meant them.

It was an odd mixture of intimacy and performance - to a certain extent they were still playing parts and yet there was something honest about it too, which Tony couldn’t put his finger on. He only knew that he loved this, the energy bouncing between him and the audience, and that it was a limbo in which he could happily stay forever.

They must have looked an odd couple, the boy in the lab coat and one in a sports vest, but both were enjoying themselves too much now to be self-conscious. Tony was grateful to every bizarre twist in his life that had contributed to making this moment happen, even the time he was sick last September and missed a week of school because he was vomiting everywhere. It was as if the universe had finally caught up on its debts, and was now paying them in full.

His every nerve was buzzing as the song came to an end. The last note faded and the crowd exploded into cheers. Breathless, he looked at Steve, whose chest was heaving from excitement rather than exertion. Distantly, he registered a slight shift. Something was different, they’d gone out to face the world and won, and he supposed it would be impossible for nothing to have changed after that.

A tangled mess of emotions enveloped him, waves of relief, affection and exhilaration. He saw his own smile reflected on his partner’s face, and without stopping to think took two steps forward to plant a light kiss on Steve’s cheekbone.

Steve froze, though when Tony pulled back he was grinning wildly. He might have reciprocated the gesture, had not Fury cleared his throat and said gruffly, ‘All right, you got the part.’

They compromised with a hug. It was a good move, Steve was reassuringly solid, and for a good minute Tony buried his face in his chest, happily ignoring the outside world. They’d come through it together, and for the time being that was all that mattered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the audience begin to rise. The Wildcats were gathering in a huddle at the foot of the stage, viewing their captain with mixed affection and exasperation.

‘You should probably go,’ Tony sighed, releasing him. ‘Your team’s getting impatient.’

Steve looked up, and sure enough, Maria was signaling for him to join them.

‘Yeah. Right. Basketball.’

‘Don’t get too distracted, I’m going to come and watch.’

‘See you after?’

‘Count on it.’

With a last quick smile, Steve hurried from the stage, leaping down to join his teammates. There was a brief moment of congratulations, as well as a fair amount of disbelief at his musical abilities, and then they were all jogging back out towards the gym, the crowd following at a slower pace.

Clint got up from the piano and walked over to join Tony. The two bore identical grins.

‘That was cute,’ Clint said, hooking his thumbs into his pockets.

‘Shut up,’ Tony answered.

‘Not going to say I didn’t see it coming.’

‘Yeah, you and everyone else.’ He started walking towards the wings. ‘You wanna come watch?’

‘I will, on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘If you so much as mention how blue Steve’s eyes are, I have full permission to vomit.’

‘Permission granted.’

_______

 

 

‘Good game.’

Natasha wasn’t really surprised to see him, leaning against the hood of her car with his arms folded across his chest.

‘Yeah, wasn’t bad.’ She walked past him, unlocking the door so that he could heave her kit bag into the back seat. It was the last time she’d use it for a while; Coach Rogers had a habit of granting them a week off after a big game. Naturally, having no lives they would probably end up playing anyway, in somebody’s backyard for a six-pack of beer.

Turning to face Clint, she crossed her own arms, mimicking his pose. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I wasn’t gonna ask right away, but I’m in need of a ride.’

‘Something happen to your truck?’

‘Flat tire this morning.’

‘Sucks.’

‘Yeah. The good news is, Thor’s been throwing a fit. Can’t believe he lost to a pair of first-timers. Got to the point where Fury threatened to throw him out of the company.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah, it was great. Fury was bluffing – the drama club would crash and burn without Thor, but he fell for it.’

‘Must have been fun to watch.’

‘Mm. I do feel for Loki, though. He made the mistake of saying that they lost fairly, which as you can imagine didn’t go down too well.’

‘At the end of the day he’s still got a Lamborghini, so I can’t say I feel too bad.’ She pulled the driver’s door open. ‘If we want to avoid spending hours in traffic, we should go now. Where is it you live?’

‘Meadowview Lane? Like out on the northern edge.’

‘I know it.’ She got in, and he hurried round to the shotgun seat. As normally her car was so full, it felt strange only to have the one passenger. ‘D’you know what happened to the lovebirds?’

‘Steve rushed home on the bus – he said he had something urgent to do, and Tony was with the decathlon team last I saw him. They won as well, so I think they were celebrating.’

Half a dozen jokes sprang to mind about nerds and the typical celebrations that could be expected. Hastily squashing them, Natasha said, ‘So did they, and by they I mean the Super Couple, get their moment?’

‘I don’t think so, but they made plans to make up this evening.’

‘Do they tell you everything or are you just psychic?’

The engine sputtered to life and the car started to move. She pushed the air con button, wondering if it was one of the times that it would work. There was usually a fifty-fifty chance, and apparently today was a day when it wouldn’t comply. It was too cool outside to open the windows, though when she looked over Clint was winding his down.

‘I like the air,’ he said, when he saw her looking. ‘If it’s okay.’

‘It’s fine,’ she suppressed a smile. With one hand hanging out of the window and his head tilted to best enjoy the breeze he looked more like a dog than ever. ‘And you avoided the question. How is it that you know Tony Stark’s every move?’

‘I overheard him and Steve talking. Though when it comes to those two, I am the ultimate third wheel. I’ve had to sit through so many rehearsals while they get distracted by the oceans in each other’s eyes and find everything the other says hilarious. It’s unbearable.’

‘Don’t I know it. Much as it’s been good for Steve to do something other than sit around and mope, he’s been a pain in the ass.’

‘On a slightly more interesting note, what are you up to this weekend?’

‘I wish it were more interesting. Got to go to my cousin’s birthday thing. I haven’t seen most of my extended family for years, so that should be fun.’

‘Are they the sort that constantly want to know what grade you’re in?’ Clint mimicked an aged, female voice. ‘So you’re in _high school_ now! Are you enjoying it? Have you started looking at colleges yet?’

‘Actually only a few of them are like that. Though what I’m going to do at college is usually up for debate.’ She laughed. ‘My uncle’s worried I’m gonna be a cop. What are your family like?’

‘The usual. My mom’s big into community stuff. She makes jam passive-aggressively every summer. It was really funny, last year...’ he launched off onto a convoluted story featuring people Natasha had never met. It was nice to just drive and have his voice in the background, bright and funny in a wry kind of way. Twice she found herself straying back to her usual route home, and had to hastily remember that she was going somewhere else. As they pulled out onto a single lane road curving away from the city centre, Clint’s story hastily ended so that he could direct her.

‘Left here, and then right at the next roundabout.’

‘Okay. From these surroundings I’m going to make the wildest of guesses and say that you live on a farm?’

‘Never said I didn’t.’

‘That explains the truck.’

‘Everyone always sounds so surprised when they find out things about me, and yet they never think to ask.’

‘You want questions? I still got time.’

He shrugged. ‘Sure, but if you’re gonna interrogate me the least I can do is return the favor.’

‘Deal. Favorite animal?’

‘Hamsters.’

She couldn’t hold her smile back. ‘I have to say, I didn’t expect that. Why?’

‘I had one in second grade called Peaseblossom. Had her for two years, then she went off to the great hamster cage in the sky. I was duly devastated. What about you?’

‘Cats and dogs. People always make it out like you have to choose, but what’s the fun in that?’

‘Okay, my turn to pick a question. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you go?’

‘As in move there now, or as an adult?’

‘As an adult.’

‘Tricky. I have no idea what I want to do as a future career, so no help there.’ Her gaze drifted across the road, looking at the fields on either side without seeing them. ‘Maybe Budapest? It seems like a really cool place.’

‘Nice choice. I would go for either London or New York.’

‘So you’re not in love with the farming life?’

‘I like it fine; I’m just not crazy about it. Maybe if I had a lot more going on, I’d want somewhere to retreat. As it is, I’d rather be somewhere where stuff is happening.’

‘I can understand that. Next question; when you were ten, what was your dream career?’

‘Secret agent. Cliché, I know.’

‘Not as cliché as me, I wanted to be a ballet dancer.’

‘What happened?’

She laughed. ‘I grew up. Mind you, I wasn’t set on it. I would have gone for anything that sounded exciting.’

‘D’you ever wonder what it would be like if you’d met people sooner? If Steve and Tony grew up on the same street, that sort of thing.’

‘Knowing them, it still would have taken them this long to get together. They’d be that infuriating couple that make so much sense, only they just can’t see it.’

‘I daresay you’re right. It would have been nice to know you, though.’

‘Ditto. Do you actually live along here, or was this just a complicated plan to make conversation?’

‘Fun as that sounds, I do. We’re actually really close. Hey, pull over here.’

She did as he suggested, coming to a stop on a grassy verge by the side of the road. ‘Did you tell your parents you were going to run all the way home or something?’

‘It’s not that.’ Clint shifted, and unbuckled his seatbelt. ‘I didn’t want to kiss you where they could see.’ 

‘About time. I was starting to worry you were just super interested in small talk.’ She rolled her eyes and leaned in to meet him halfway. It was the most chaste of kisses, soft and sweet and over far too fast.

‘Should I take your stealthy measures to mean you don’t bring many girls home?’ she asked quietly, moving forward not for a second kiss but to rest her forehead against his.

‘I wasn’t planning on bringing you in, but I could be persuaded otherwise,’ he murmured, the breath from each word tickling her face.

‘Nice try, Barton. I don’t put out on the first date.’

He jerked away, a teasing merriment in his eyes. ‘This is a date?’

Natasha hand closed on the neckline of his shirt, tugging him back. ‘It could be,’ she said, lightly touching her lips to his jawline and moving gradually up to his mouth. 

One of his hands went to her waist to steady her; the other became buried in her hair. Between kisses, she heard him whisper,  ‘I like the sound of that.’

 

Steve sat on the edge of his bed, staring sightlessly at the floor. In both hands he held his mobile, which he hadn’t touched in so long that it’d locked itself. He knew what he had to do; yet so far he’d succeeded in evading the task. Only when it occurred to him that the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could see Tony, did he muster the courage to unlock it and open Contacts.

If he was honest with himself, he’d been putting this off for months. Initially hurt had served as his chief motivation, and then when the freshness of the wound faded a different type of reluctance took hold. The more time that went by the harder it seemed, and it was so easy to pretend he’d forgotten. Even now, a part of his mind was arguing that he had no actual obligation to do this; it wouldn’t be the end of the world if he didn’t.

 _You owe it to him; you owe it to yourself, and everything you had together_. Natasha’s voice rang out clearly in his head, and try as he might Steve couldn’t ignore it completely.

If he did it now, he’d never have to do it again. A one-time deal, and he should just pluck up the courage to get it over with. It was a typical ripping-off-a-band-aid scenario; it’d hurt but not for too long. It was that thought that enabled him to scroll down to the third number on the list and hit _call._

He heard it ring, once, twice, three times and then four. Just as he was starting to feel the relief that would accompany getting the machine, the phone was picked up and an achingly familiar voice said, ‘Hello?’

‘Hey Buck, it’s me.’ His voice, if not casual, was even.

‘I know. Caller ID.’

‘One of the lesser-celebrated inventions of the twenty-first century.’ This was harder than he’d thought. ‘I thought you’d have deleted my number by now. You never called.’

‘I know. I tried to, if that helps. I’m sorry.’

Steve swallowed. Band-aids were supposed to hurt. ‘How’s Brooklyn?’

‘It’s great.’ Bucky’s voice picked up, and Steve could tell he was smiling. ‘You don’t realize you were in the middle of nowhere until you aren’t, y’know? There are some really cool people. And less cool ones, but I try and avoid those.’ He paused. ‘Albuquerque?’

‘Same old, same old. Although – ’ Steve forced the words out. He didn’t know why he wanted to say this, only that it wouldn’t feel proper if he didn’t. ‘I’m seeing someone.’

‘Oh. Anyone I know?’

‘No, he’s new.’

‘Basketball team?’

‘No, we got Pietro to replace you. Wanda’s brother?’

‘Is he good?’

‘He’s fast.’ Steve tried not to focus on how weird this was. He knew every inflection of Bucky’s voice; it was like they were in the same room yet couldn’t see each other. No time at all seemed to have passed, and yet there was a strange gap between them, filled with everything Steve had said and felt and done since Bucky left, a space that was now too wide to bridge. ‘Not the most skilled player yet, but he’s very committed. You probably didn’t hear – we won state nationals this year.’

‘Well done.’ Bucky’s voice was flat again. It was easy to tell this wasn’t his favorite subject. ‘When?’

‘This afternoon, actually. It was a good game, though the team miss you.’ _And I do,_ he silently added. _More than anything, only I can’t ever say it._ ‘Is there basketball in Brooklyn?’

‘Not at my school. I’m looking into it locally, though. Something should turn up.’

‘Hope it does. I mean, it would be a shame if you couldn’t play. My dad would have a coronary if he heard his star player had converted to something else.’

‘ _Ex-_ star player,’ Bucky corrected. ‘I hear you’re captain now.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You deserve it. My leadership skills were lousy.’

‘Hey, you started the whole movie nights thing,’ Steve objected. ‘Which are still ongoing.’

‘A grand legacy,’ Bucky observed.

‘Natasha’s been telling me to call you,’ Steve blurted out, unable to think of anything more sensible with which to respond.

‘She sent me a couple of messages.’

‘If I had called sooner, would you have picked up?’

A short silence, then, ‘I don’t know. I guess. I was mad, but you’re my friend.’

_You’re. You are, not you were._

‘My mom offered to let me come back in the summer,’ Bucky added. ‘For a visit.’

‘Will you?’ Steve’s stomach clenched.

‘I doubt it. I wouldn’t fit in anymore, and it sounds like you’re moving on. My life’s here now. No sense in uprooting it.’

‘That makes sense,’ Steve hoped his relief wasn’t evident. This phone call was hard enough. The idea of seeing Bucky in person was doubly terrifying. ‘Uh, I have to go now. I miss you, Buck.’

‘I miss you too, bro. Take care.’ The line clicked, and Bucky was gone.

 

Tony was sitting on the porch steps when Steve drove up, his face contorted in annoyingly attracted concentration. 

‘Hey,’ Steve hopped out of the car, and closed the door behind him. It’d taken nearly fifteen minutes of pleading to get his dad to relinquish the keys. Though Steve had his license he rarely used it, and Mr Rogers was of the opinion that the moment he let the vehicle out of his sight it would get hideously scratched and dented. Steve had to point out the impeccability of his record and the fact that after winning such an important game surely he deserved a reward?

It would have been far quicker and easier just to call Natasha, only she wasn’t answering her phone, and there came a time when a guy had to stop getting chauffeured everywhere and do some driving himself.

‘Nice ride,’ Tony got up slowly, stretching. ‘Your dad’s, right?’

‘Yup. You don’t even want to know the lengths of guilt tripping I had to go to for him to give in. It wasn’t pretty.’

‘How was the call?’ Tony was studying his face carefully, as though checking it was safe to proceed on the subject.

‘Both better and worse than I thought it was going to be,’ Steve admitted. ‘I’m glad it’s over, though.’

‘I should probably, invite you in or something.’ Tony mumbled, and they traipsed inside.  ‘Oh, and if you see my mom say hi. She was so thrilled to hear I’m actually dating someone. She said you looked nice after that time you came round. Well okay, she was too scandalized by Natasha to say anything, but she _would_ have made some appreciate comment about your personality had she been able.’

‘I am duly flattered.’ Standing in close quarters in the narrow hall, Steve found himself noticing the height difference more acutely. Tony was half a head shorter, it would take just a small bend to reach down and –

‘Oh, hi boys.’ Right on cute, Mrs Stark appeared. To her son, she added, ‘I have to go in to the office for an hour; there’s been some mix-up of paperwork. Talk to Dad about dinner.’

‘Okay mom.’ Tony cleared his throat. ‘I think you’ve met Steve, my boyfriend?’

She smiled without missing a beat, holding out her hand to shake. ‘You must be the one who got Tony into musical theatre.’

‘Guilty,’ Steve nodded politely.

‘There are snacks in the kitchen if you want them. I’ll see you at six.’ She scooped up some car keys out of her bag and left through the front door.

‘She’s trusting,’ Steve remarked. ‘My mom would be asking you about your GPA and extra-curriculars and trying to stop us from disappearing upstairs without us knowing it.’

‘Like I said, mine’s relieved I’m acting like what she thinks a normal kid should.’

Steve leant against the wall, carefully positioning himself between two picture frames so as not to knock either off. ‘Does she mind that I’m a guy?’

‘Nah, too politically correct for that. Yours?’

‘Mine probably knew before I did. When I was twelve I said in what I thought was a straight way that I liked male superheroes because of how they looked in their tight Spandex suits. I didn’t say the words _tight_ and _Spandex_ , but you get the idea.’

Tony laughed. ‘I get the idea.’ He had been glancing around the hallway, and now his gaze came to rest on Steve’s face, flickering up from his mouth to his eyes. Steve recognized his expression as a mirror of his own, and without further ado the taller boy leant down to brush his lips across Tony’s, reveling in the buzz the contact gave him.

Tony exhaled sharply, and extended his hands to wrap around Steve in an embrace, until he was close enough to count his eyelashes. With an impatient sound, he moved to close the gap between them, simultaneously resuming the kiss and deepening it. It was what he had been waiting for since he first saw him, it was the answer to the question that resonated in every song they sang together. Any fears he’d held that it wouldn’t live up to expectation were totally and utterly crushed, because this was _Steve_ , tall and solid and everything that was right in the world, and Tony never wanted to let him go.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

Summer.

Boiling, dusty and airless. Even the flies seemed tired, buzzing pathetically for only a short while before finding somewhere to perch. All the grass was brown, and when Bucky got out at the Stop-And-Shop the pavement was scorching hot. He hadn’t stayed long, just picked up some bottled water and the doughnuts he used to eat all the time, before hopping back into his grandmother’s minivan to savor the vehicle’s air-conditioning.

It was the oddest thing to drive through a neighborhood he’d known all his life and be a stranger to it. Regardless of size, every difference was jarring. Somebody had painted over the graffiti under the bridge, gas prices were twice what they were and one of the library’s windows was boarded up after being smashed.

He couldn’t stop the mental comparisons either, even though he knew they would only make things worse. In just a few months Brooklyn had become his default, and he hated himself for how swiftly his allegiance could change.

The sound of his ringtone filled the car, and he hastily pulled into the parking lot into one of the local restaurants. His grandparents were sweet people and way more trusting with their minivan than they ought to have been, but they considered it a necessity to check in with him every twenty minutes, or ask his opinion on dining plans.

‘Hi,’ he said, holding his phone to his ear with one hand and tapping the fingers of the other on the steering wheel. ‘Yeah, I’ll be back for dinner…. Lasagna sounds great…’

She started off on a spiel about whether or not he liked tomatoes, and he could practically feel his eyes glazing over. If he craned his neck, he could see the chalkboard outside the restaurant, advertising the day’s specials. He read them without enthusiasm; none sounded particularly appealing and he’d said he’d go back to eat anyway.

Still looking at the restaurant, he moved on to the outside tables, wondering vaguely if there would be anyone he knew. Someone with bright red hair caught his eye, and Bucky’s heart stopped.

‘Yeah, seven-thirty is fine,’ he managed to babble into his phone. ‘I gotta go now, love you.’

It was definitely Natasha – he’d recognize her anywhere. She was sitting next to a blond boy he didn’t recognize, though it wasn’t hard to figure out who he must be. The two had appropriated most of each other’s chairs, and Bucky distantly remembered Facebook photos with a boyfriend in.

Steve and another boy sat opposite. Bucky couldn’t tear his eyes from Steve’s face, silhouetted in profile and now and again turned towards him as he spoke to the dark-haired boy. It was clear they were used to each other’s company, acting with an easy familiarity that made Bucky’s heart snap into little pieces. Hearing that Steve had a boyfriend and seeing them together were too very different things, and it was enough to make Bucky wish he’d refused his grandfather’s invitation.

Steve was laughing now, wiping something off the black-haired boy’s face. Bucky blinked, and they were kissing. It was like watching every fantasy Bucky’s fevered brain had ever produced, yet he’d missed the casting memo and someone else had been chosen. Unable to watch any longer, he restarted the engine and drove away, promising himself that he wouldn’t look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've got this far, I daresay you'll have realised that I know nothing about the following things:
> 
> \- Scholastic Decathlons & how they work  
> \- Basketball  
> \- Albuquerque, New Mexico. 
> 
> I blame the original HSM for my lack of knowledge on the first two, as they gloss over the details (and yes I'm too lazy to check properly.)
> 
> As for the last one, I'm just claiming artistic licence. I'm sure everything is horribly wrong, but as this fic contains weirder things so I'm not getting into a stew about it.
> 
> Big thanks to taramacIay for reading though this multiple times and patiently supplying advice.


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